


Trapped under ice

by Vale11



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abuse, Character Growth, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Metallica - Freeform, Neil Hargrove Being an Asshole, a lot of metallica, did i say metallica?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-03-28 07:12:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13898979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vale11/pseuds/Vale11
Summary: Thing is, Billy is fucking smart. Like, a lot. He likes Metallica, and Motorhead, and AC/DC, and Aerosmith, and Tygers of Pan Tang. He likes horror movies, and is a real geek once you get to know him, like "Dustin would love you if he knew kind of geek". He loves Tolkien, he loves Star Wars, he actually helped Max with her character sheet in D&D. He's a literature freak, he reads so much. Must be also because he can't really sleep well, and fuck if Steve can't relate, with his Upside Down nightmares. Billy's monster lives with him, though. And it sucks. Massively.





	1. bad company

Tell me that you are not a thief  
Oh but I am bad company  
It's the way I play dirty for dirty  
Oh, somebody double-crossed me  
Double-cross, double-cross  
Bad Company - Bad Company

It was frigid, in Hawkins, foggy and humid, and his car had just decided that no, that day wasn’t really a good day to work and had suddenly died on the way to max’s house. And wasn’t that peachy, Steve grumbled. There were no phones around, so he would have to walk all the way to the Hargrove’s, ask for the phone and wait for someone to pick him up. He got up from his seat ant threw the door open, drowning his hands in his pockets and prepared to face the cold when a car approached, engine rumbling and some fast music screaming from the driver opened window. He should have known who the driver was just listening to that angry tune, but the flashlights were right in his face, and Steve recognized the blue Camaro just once its owner turned it off. His face started aching all over again just looking at Hargrove.  
“Got troubles, princess?”  
He asked, and it felt strange since Billy and him had avoided each other like the fucking plague since the beating he gave him at the Byers. Then Hargrove had literally vanished for a whole week, coming back to school with a hell of a shiner and a nice collection of new bruises, and Steve had honestly felt good, thinking that he finally had had his ass handed to him. He wasn’t new to brawls, that was for sure: what with all of those bruises he showed with at practice, otherwise? Billy fucking Harington, ladies and gentlemen.  
“Are you deaf, or what?”  
“Uh?”  
Steve felt like an idiot, lost in his musings, but recovered and managed a decent scowl.  
“What do you want, Hargrove?”  
Said Hargrove just rolled his eyes upward, groaning.  
“Fuck sake, Harrington - he muttered, hands in his jeans pockets and one hip against his car - you need help or not? I can leave and let you fucking freeze here on the road for all I care”  
Well, now Steve was confused. Like, a lot.  
“Can you - he stammered, confused - I mean. You can…” He didn’t finish the sentence, nodding in the general direction of his BMW. Billy grinned, all teeth and no kindness at all.  
“I can, princess - he took a couple of steps in Steve’s direction and he felt himself cringe, but billy stopped in front of his car, tapping its hood with his index finger - open up, will you?”  
Steve looked at him, but then just nodded and obeyed, crossing his arms against his chest and letting his hip rest against the driver door, mirroring Billy’s posture of a few seconds before.  
“Right, let’s see what’s wrong with this thing”  
Steve frowned looking at Billy, elbow deep inside the hood of his BMW. It was fucking cold, and the guy was wearing just a black shirt under his omnipresent leather jacket.  
“Aren’t you cold?” He asked before he could stop himself. Billy just arched a blonde eyebrow and looked up from the engine. He had a split eyebrow, Steve noted.  
“You got into a fight?” He asked again, not even knowing why he bothered. Billy smirked.  
“You could say that. Turn this thing on”  
“Quit calling my car a thing, Hargrove”  
Billy just arched the same eyebrow again, hands on the opened hood and a good portion of his belly showing. What the fuck, didn’t the guy feel the cold at all? Was it just Steve that was freezing his fucking hands off? He frowned again, but got into the car and, sure as hell, the engine sputtered back to life.  
“What the fuck - he muttered, not daring turning it off fearing that it wouldn’t start again - how the hell did you do it?”  
Billy just shrugged, cleaning his hands on his jeans, still looking inside the hood.  
“Get this thing to a garage, Harrington - he said, shutting it close - it might get you home, but no further”.  
“Right. Uh. - Steve buried a hand in his hair - thank you. I guess”  
“Fuck off, Harington”  
And with that, Billy got inside his car and sped off.  
—  
The next morning Billy saw Harington get out from Byers’ car and smirked but, when Steve looked right up at him, the smile fell from his face and he handed inside. He didn’t know why he had stopped to help the night before, and he couldn’t even say that he hadn’t recognized the car, because he had. He was still brooding over that when he saw a shadow approach his locker out of the corner of his eye, and instinctively tensed. He forced his shoulders to relax when he saw Harington.  
“So - he started - you were right, you know. The garage guy that took my car told me that a few more miles and it would have totaled”  
Billy gave a noncommittal grunt, arms buried in his locker. He didn’t even turn around.  
“So, uh. Thanks. I guess?”  
Billy bristled, eyes reduced to two blue slits.  
“Listen up, Harrington - he growled, shutting the locker so hard that half school turned around - why the fuck are you talking to me, uh? We’re not friends.”  
Steve’s eyes got slightly bigger before rolling backward so hard he could have seen his brain. Seriously, what the fuck.  
“I wonder why I bother - he mumbled - asshole”  
Billy just grinned, that manic thing all teeth and rage and coldness, and got in Steve’s face.  
“What do you want, Harrington?” He hissed through clenched teeth, and his split eyebrow was even more visible like that, with a black halo around his jaw that looked like a fading bruise. Then Billy made a face, opened his locker, pocketed a brown paper bag and shut it again.  
“Oh, I don’t know Hargrove - Steve mused - maybe I just felt like saying thank you, you know. One of those things normal people do”.  
Billy looked at him then, really looked at him, bottom lip trapped between his teeth as de fingered the brown bag.  
“You’re welcome. Now, fuck off.”  
Hargrove looked at him until Steve turned around, as he did he rummaged in the bag and threw something in his mouth.  
Steve noticed. He wasn’t an idiot.


	2. Lift me up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alright. Ok. Don’t move.”  
> Billy felt Steve’s hands on his body and grinned, front teeth still a bit bloody.  
> “Careful, Harrington” He said with a smirk “Don’t damage the goods”  
> “Look already damaged to me”.

It ain't no mystery  
I'm all I have left  
I'm pushing back and running you over.  
Lift me up - Five fingers death punch

Seeing Billy outside the school was pretty rare for Steve, and he thanked whoever was responsible for that. It’s funny how things happened. Really.  
He was getting Max home after what felt like the longest session of D&D ever when he spotted the Camaro parked at the side of the road, the driver door open and a pair of jeans clad legs half inside, half outside the backseat.  
“What the fuck” He muttered, watching Max tense “Stay in the car, kid”.  
“He does that, sometimes” Max quipped “His dad and him scream, then there are some noises and he sleeps in the car for the night”. She was munching on her nails, but Steve was too shaken by what she had just told him to reprimand her. Many things could make sense. Bruises, anger, drinking, and being a complete asshole, for example. He looked at the kid, shook his head and got out.  
“Stay in the car” He repeated. Max nodded.  
When he got close, Hargrove didn’t even stir: half curled and half sprawled on the backseat, brown paper bag crumpled and a blister of pills lying behind the driver seat, half empty. Steve crouched and checked. Painkillers. Right. There was also a bottle of cheap whisky there, three quarters still full, and how the fuck had billy managed to put his hands on that? Then his brain bell rang, reminding him that painkiller and alcohol didn’t mix, like, at all, and Steve found himself trying to rouse Billy, wanting to see if he was still alive or not.  
“Hargrove” He tried, shaking his leg a bit “Wake up, asshole”.  
Nothing.  
“Billy, come on, wake up”  
Steve could feel himself starting to sweat, dread clenching his guts, but then he squeezed his knee and Billy’s eyes fluttered open. He sat up so quickly that Steve had to jump back to avoid being head butted. Again.  
“Shit!” He cursed “What the fuck, dude!”  
Billy didn’t answer, breath harsh and arms around his middle, eyes wild. Steve froze a few feet from him, hands up, trying to shield Max from an eventual attack.  
“Billy?” He tried “Hargrove?”  
“Harrington?”  
Billy’s voice was wrong, he thought. It was wrong. It sounded like gravel, tiredness and pain.  
“Yeah, yeah, it’s me. Can you…” He gestured wildly, but froze again when he saw Billy flinch. “Im going to touch you, is that ok?”  
Billy grunted, letting his head fall against the back of the passenger seat headrest, nearly falling between the seats, arms still around his middle. Steve couldn’t see his face, but then he crouched and felt his mouth go dry. Hargrove smirked.  
“Steve” He rasped “King Steve. To what do I owe the pleasure?”  
Billy’s face was a mess of blacks and blues and some yellowish halos where old bruises had been covered by new ones. And blood. A fuckload of blood.  
“Steve?”  
Max was out of the car and shit, it was the worst moment for the kid to see her step-brother. Billy’s head came up and his face crumpled.  
“Stay away brat” He growled “I don’t wanna see you”.  
Max rounded the car, and Steve stopped her with one arm, eyes still on Billy.  
“Can you drive?” He asked, and Billy scoffed.  
“What does it look like?”  
“Ok, ok. Stay here. Don’t move. I’ll get Max home and come back for you. Don’t fucking move, Hargrove”  
Billy arched one eyebrow but didn’t move a muscle, still perched on the backseat.  
“As you wish, King Steve” He muttered, finally, when Steve made to leave. Steve nodded, walking backwards and forcing Max to get in the car.  
“I’m serious, Hargrove, don’t move. I’ll be back in a sec.”  
Billy just shrugged, head down on one knee, and Steve’s heart skipped a beat. He should have called an ambulance, that’s what he should have done. He sped through Hawkins’ streets to max place, bid her goodnight and watched her as she stopped in front of her door: there was no way she would have gotten inside without knowing about her asshole of a brother, Steve knew that. She was worried sick about him and she knew something, or at least she had started to suspect that something was very wrong between Billy and his father.  
Steve made an u-turn and forced his car to eat gravel and concrete until he saw the blue Camaro again, heart in his throat. He parked next to Billy’s car and jumped out, only to see that the backseat was empty. He cursed, until he spotted Billy crouched down against one of the wheels.  
“Hargrove?”  
“I’m here” Billy waved. There was a pool of vomit beside him, and if possible his breathing had gotten even harsher, puffs of breath white in the cold night air.  
“Jesus Christ. What happened?”  
Billy scoffed, but regretted it immediately, one hand on his ribs.  
“What’s this, Harrington?” He forced through gritted teeth “Are you a white knight or something? The sworn protector of that bunch of brats and the whole youth of this shit town?”  
Steve hummed, taking in Billy’s trembling hands.  
“Or something” he answered, and Billy looked up at him.  
“Then where were you when…” He stopped talking and got silent, eyebrows kitted together.  
“When what, Hargrove?”  
“Forget it, I’m drunk”  
“Of course you are” Steve muttered, looping one arm around Billy’s middle and feeling cold and clammy skin under the leather jacket. Billy tensed. “I’m going to get you up, can you walk?”  
He didn’t wait for an answer, hauling him up in one motion, listening to his pained grunts. He didn’t open his mouth, moved back the passenger seat and deposited Billy there, reclining the seat. The guy shuddered and curled up, and Steve sighed and took him in: his hair were a mess, half soaked in blood, he had a brand new shiner, his jaw looked swollen and there had to be something seriously wrong with his ribs and stomach if the way he was cradling them was of any indication. He got inside his car, then crammed up the heating.  
“I’m getting you to the hospital, ok? Give me your car keys, so I can lock it”  
“No hospitals!” Billy scrambled and hissed when his ribs made themselves know “No hospitals, please”  
Steve stopped breathing, eyes on the guy, but nodded. He looked so fucking scared. Terrified.  
“Ok, ok. No hospitals. Jesus Christ. Don’t move, ok? Don’t move” Steve’s hand found Billy’s arm and he grimaced feeling him flinch again “You’ll hurt yourself. Stay put”  
Billy curled up again, facing him, and nodded.  
“No hospitals”  
“Yeah, i got it” Steve growled “So, where do you want me to get you?”  
“Uh? What’s wrong with my car?”  
Billy looked seriously spooked, and Steve felt the exasperation grow up a notch.  
“Are you fucking kidding me, Hargrove? You’re not sleeping in your car with your ribs and this cold, man”  
“Don’t tell me what to do, Harrington”  
Billy’s voice was at least an octave lower, eyes bright and hands still shaking. He would have looked dangerous, if he weren’t half dead.  
“Afraid you don’t have much of a choice, dude”  
Billy looked ready to run, he made to get out of Steve’s car and growled when one hand landed on his shoulder.  
“Where do you think you’re going?”  
Steve asked, grip increasing.  
“Out” He seethed “I don’t know. Away from you. Driving.”  
“No way, unless you want to wrap your car around a tree”  
Billy stopped, slumped back and hissed, fisting his hands agains his hips, then covered his face.  
“Fuck!” He screamed “Fuck, it had to be you, right? Fucking saint Steve Harrington, ready to save everyone!”  
And hearing that, Steve’s brain bell rang again.  
“What did you mean before?” He asked turning around, feeling the steering wheel press against his arm.  
“I got no fucking idea what you’re talking about. I’m drunk”  
“You don’t look drunk to me”  
“Dont’ I, now?”  
“Hargrove, what di you mean?”  
Billy sighed and gritted his teeth, adjusting his back so it was pressed against the leather of Steve’s car.  
“Jesus Christ, Harrington” He muttered “Fucking when?”  
“You asked where i was”  
“Oh, that. Forget it”  
Billy had started torturing his frayed jeans. His frayed and bloody jeans. And it was Steve’s turn to sigh. The guy was fucking impossible.  
“Yeah, right. No way. What have you done?”  
Billy’s eyes got huge, hands stilling on his hips.  
“I did nothing”  
“Don’t bullshit me”  
“I’m fucking not, asshole” He seethed, rage kept barely in check by pain “I did nothing”  
“If you laid a hand on Max…”  
“What?” Billy sounded winded “What did you say?”  
A bit of doubt started worming its way in Steve’s brain. Had he read Billy’s words wrong? Like, catastrophically wrong?  
“What did you fucking say, Harrington?” Billy spat, one hand clawing at Steve’s sweater.  
“Sorry, ok? I’m sorry!” Steve threw his hands in the air and saw Billy flinch. Again. What the fuck. “Sorry”  
Billy grunted and fell back against the seat, gulping in air.  
“I fucking didn’t, ok? I didn’t” He muttered, closing his eyes and cradling his midsection “I would never. Fuck you, Harrington.”  
Steve nodded, feeling guilty and even worried for the asshole.  
“I’m going to touch you” He repeated “Is that ok?”  
Billy growled.  
“Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare”  
Steve froze, but then shrugged and, slowly, let his hand rest on the back of Hargrove’s neck. He was cold. Too cold. And shivering.  
“I should really get you to the hospital” He muttered, but Billy shook his head “Fuck sake, Billy. I can’t leave you here like this”  
Billy kept silent, Steve’s thumb was drawing circles on his neck and he was torn between enjoying the touch or feeling totally spooked by it.  
“Why not” He asked.  
“Saint Steve, remember?”  
Billy actually smiled at that, shoulders just a little less tense. “Yeah”, he breathed.  
“I’ll get you to my place, ok? You can crash on the couch”  
“What the…” Billy kept his eyes closed, but managed to sound surprised anyway “Why are you doing this?”  
“Saint Steve” Steve smiled “Now let me lock your car”  
Billy’s right hand went inside his jacket pocket and he hissed when the scraped palm went in contact with the leather, then he begrudgingly gave Steve his keys and watched him lock his Camaro.  
“Why are you doing this?”  
He asked again when Steve got behind the wheel, eyes burning holes in his head.  
“No one deserves that, Hargrove”  
Billy felt himself go rigid, mouth dry and hands shaking.  
“The fuck are you talking about?”  
“I think you perfectly know”  
“Shit” Billy felt like screaming, but his lungs weren’t cooperating “You can’t…Harrington, don’t…who told you?” He felt himself start to hyperventilate. Fucking perfect. Steve’s hand landed on his shoulder.  
“Billy, Billy. Don’t. Come on” He urged “Calm down, ok? Breathe with me”  
“You can’t” He wheezed, crouching towards his own knees, ribs screaming with the motion “You can’t…Harrington, please”  
“I won’t tell a soul, Billy” Steve’s hand was on his back, the other on the wheel, driving them home “I swear. Just breathe, pal, ok? We’ll be there in no time.”  
Billy nodded, breath still wild, and when the car stopped he didn’t move.  
“Max told you?”  
Steve kept his hand on his back, looking up at his home, then shook his head.  
“No man, not directly at least. She might have given me some hint, honestly. She seemed worried.”  
Billy kept quiet, breath a bit more regular, and squeezed his eyes.  
“Shit. I hoped she wouldn’t discover that”  
“She’s too smart for that”  
“Don’t tell me”  
Billy groaned, hands still on his face. “Your parents?” Ha asked, then.  
“They’re out on a trip, come on” Steve answered, one hand on Billy’s neck again “Can you walk?”  
“Uh, I think so. Maybe”  
“Here let me help”  
He rounded the car and maneuvered Billy up from the seat, locked the car and got them inside, one arm still around the other’s middle, mindful of his ribs. Billy’s head was already lolling, the guy looked exhausted.  
“Here” Steve said, helping him sit on the couch “take off your clothes, i’ll bring you something to sleep in and a blanket. You need help with your boots?”  
Billy shook his head, then pulled up one leg to take off his shoes since crouching with his ribs was a no-no, and fell back against the sofa grimacing, head tilted backwards on the headrest. Steve got back with a blue sweater, large enough to be comfortable for his bruised torso, a couple of pillows and a pile of blankets, and Billy felt the sofa dip with his weight but kept his eyes closed.  
“Can you…uhm” Steve stammered and Billy opened his eyes “Just sit up for a little bit, ok? Can you lift your arms?”  
Billy bit his lip and shook his head. He had tried, and driving away from home had been so painful that he had stopped and collapsed right there.  
“Alright. Ok. Don’t move.”  
Billy felt Steve’s hands on his body and grinned, front teeth still a bit bloody.  
“Careful, Harrington” He said with a smirk “Don’t damage the goods”  
“Look already damaged to me” Steve hissed under his breath when Billy’s shirt came off: his whole torso was bruised to hell and back, and his left ribs were swollen as fuck. He looked at that display of violence and felt queasy with anger.  
“I should really, really, really have taken you to the hospital” He muttered, then noticed Billy’s eyes dropping “Shit man, sorry. I’ll get you some ice, and something for those wounds. And a fuckload of plasters. Shit”  
He got up again, leaving Billy shirtless and alone. He was so cold. And tired. And angry. And sad. So fucking angry and desperate. Steve watched him tense and hurried back with the first aid kit and a pack of frozen peas.  
“Here” he said, closing Billy’s fingers around the cold material “For your face. I got a hot water bottle for the ribs, and I really should clean up your eye.”  
“I’ve had worse, pretty boy”  
“I don’t care”  
Billy’s eyes flew open, frozen peas against his jaw.  
“I don’t care if you had worse. You still need cleaning up”  
“Hm” Billy shrugged and hissed when a cotton ball drenched in rubbing alcohol was pressed against his re-splitted eyebrow “Fuck, Harrington! Give a man a warning first!”  
Steve laughed: “Come on, Hargrove. Such a big baby”  
Billy looked ready to deck him, but at the end just fell back on the couch mumbling a fuck you, arms still around his middle. Steve kept on cleaning up his face: eyebrow, split lip, scrapes and stuff, then went to a couple of gashes on his sternum and, by the time he had finished bandaging his scraped hand, Billy had gone as rigid as a washboard, the other hand fisted so tightly he was drawing blood with his blunt nails.  
“Ok, we’re not doing that” Steve took his hand and made him unclench his fingers, then let it fall back on the couch and sighed. “Ok, man, here”  
He let billy fall back against the pillows, a good position for someone with bruised ribs, and watched as he opened his eyes, disoriented.  
“Where are my painkillers?”  
“Afraid you left them in your car”  
“Shit. I really need them”  
“Yeah, about that” Steve mumbled, tapping one finger on the couch “How many did you wash down with that crap whisky, hm?”  
“Not my father Harrington”  
Billy’s answer came pretty lamely, the guy was already half asleep.  
“God, I hope not” Steve chuckled “I’ve never meet the guy and I hate him already”  
Billy snorted, grimaced and decided to answer.  
“One this morning” He counted on his fingers “A couple at school, before basket practice, and one in the car. Maybe two?” He grinned sheepishly when Steve glared down at him.  
“You could have overdosed, Hargrove”  
“Would have been such a pity, uh?” Billy adverted his eyes “Don’t worry, Saint Steve, I think I puked the last two by my car”  
Steve munched at his cuticles, one hand still on Billy’s shoulder, thumb massaging his throat, then helped him inside the huge sweater. Billy was well built, but seemed to drown in the fabric. What the hell was he going to do, now?  
“Im sorry, Hargrove: no more painkillers for you tonight. Will you be able to sleep?”  
Billy shrugged and grimaced, sliding down until his face was pressed against the pillow, and hissed when Steve put the hot water bottle close to his ribs: the warmth helped with the pain, but the direct weight would have been excruciating.  
“Hm. Don’t worry, Saint Steve. I’m harder to break than this”  
Steve just nodded, and then found himself brushing back Billy’s bloody hair from the cut he had just cleaned on his hairline. Billy tensed, but let him continue, and Steve got up and left. When he woke up for school, the following morning, Billy was already gone.

That morning, at school, Billy followed Steve to his locker, black eye, split lip and bruised jaw, and nodded.  
“Harrington. You know. Thank you, for yesterday”  
Steve nodded and grabbed his wrist when he made to turn around.  
“Just…Hargrove. Call me if it happens again. Max’s got my number, ok? Don’t drive around like that. I’ll pick you up.”  
Something steeled behind Billy’s eyes, but he closed them and exhaled, nodded and left.


	3. Unwashed and somewhat slightly dazed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You really don’t like people, do you?”  
> Byers. The kid’s name was Byers. Jonathan. The guy that now was with Steve’s ex. Steve’s actual only friend, beside a bunch of children.  
> “Dunno, man” He answered, tipsy and brutally honest “I get bored. Like, easily. I like Steve, though. Steve is cool!”  
> The guy in question blushed and hid behind one hand, cursing Billy and his drunken state, but Billy just grinned. “Oh, and i might like you, strange guy” He added “I heard you got good taste in music. Should teach something to your friend, or he’ll keep on listening to that Duran Duran crap for the rest of his life”.

I’m a phallus in pigtails  
And there’s blood on my nose  
And my tissue is rotting  
Where the rats chew my bones  
And my eye sockets empty  
See nothing but pain  
I keep having this brainstorm  
About twelve times a day  
So now, you could spend the morning walking with me, quite amazed  
As I’m Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly Dazed  
Unwashed and somewhat slightly dazed - David Bowie

\---  
The third time they met outside the school, after having more or less started a friendship that left everyone else perplexed, was at a party at some classmate’s place: Steve had been practically forced to go by Nancy that, actually, had forced Jonathan too. The two of them were sitting in the garden, hoping that no one would notice their absence, when a shadow stumbled in front of them with two bottles of beer and one whole bottle of gin. Billy was grinning like a maniac, eyes lit, and his bruises did nothing but accentuate the impression of a madman jumping around in the garden. He had a real talent to find alcohol, that was for sure.  
“Steve, man!” He screamed happily, straining the clotted blood on his bottom lip and sitting on the ground in front of them “I got you something, Steve!”  
Jonathan’s eyebrows were buried in his hairline, but Steve was smiling, so it couldn’t be too dangerous, right? And Billy was actually pushing the two beers in their hands, chugging gin straight from the bottle as if it was water.  
“You drunk, Hargrove?”  
Billy just laughed, seeming so younger and carefree that Steve felt his heart constrict.  
“Gotta drink to enjoy a party, uh?” He answered, sloshing around the gin inside the bottle. Steve would have wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to drink to enjoy something, it wasn’t that mandatory, but then thought that maybe that was Billy’s way of coping, the way he knew how to be more sociable and less an asshole, and felt both sad and relieved. He smiled.  
“And what, you left your friends inside all alone?”  
He asked, elbows on his knees and beer dangling from his fingers. Billy shrugged, drying his mouth with his jacket.  
“Wouldn’t really call them that, man” He admitted, but it didn’t look like he really cared about it. He cared about this guy, tho. He cared about Steve. He had discovered it some mornings before, and it had left him perplexed and scared, but then his “fuck it, come on” attitude had won and there he was, sitting crosslegged in front of the guy he had beaten up, the same guy that saved him from death some nights prior, might it have been from hypothermia or chocked by his own vomit. Who knew. It felt so fucking weird, but he was too drunk to think about that.  
“You really don’t like people, do you?”  
Byers. The kid’s name was Byers. Jonathan. The guy that now was with Steve’s ex. Steve’s actual only friend, beside a bunch of children.  
“Dunno, man” He answered, tipsy and brutally honest “I get bored. Like, easily. I like Steve, though. Steve is cool!”  
The guy in question blushed and hid behind one hand, cursing Billy and his drunken state, but Billy just grinned. “Oh, and i might like you, strange guy” He added “I heard you got good taste in music. Should teach something to your friend, or he’ll keep on listening to that Duran Duran crap for the rest of his life”.  
“Uh, thank you. I guess?” Jonathan’s mouth hung open, and it was such a funny sight that Billy laughed again and proceeded to close it himself.  
“Please” Steve scoffed “As if Motorhead were any better”  
“Well, they actually are” Jonathan quipped around a mouthful of beer “Surely better than Duran Duran, man”  
Billy clapped his hands.  
“I like you, weird guy!” Jonathan hid a smile, Steve groaned.  
“You’re a fucking traitor, Byers”  
Nancy appeared from the house looking for Jonathan and ushered him inside because, apparently, there was something she had to show him that couldn’t wait. She smiled and waved to Steve, but froze when she saw Billy.  
“Everything alright?” She asked “Steve, you ok there?”  
She didn’t say “alone with him”, but she didn’t need to. Billy heard it just fine, clear as the day, and felt like a rock had fallen in his stomach. He had beaten up the guy and she was right, he shouldn’t be trusted, but Steve just waved back and nodded looking at the pair joining the party, and got comfortable on his chair.  
“So” He started, nervous, and had to clear his own throat to go on “You alright?”  
Billy stopped playing with the gravel of the garden and looked up, maybe a little embarrassed.  
“Yep” He said, popping out the final P “I mean. Still bruised, but not bad. I got my ribs wrapped”.  
“Good” Steve nodded, then something like steel got behind his eyes and he sat on the ground in front of Billy.  
“I was serious, Hargrove. Next time something like that happens, you call me. If I’m not home try calling Dustin or Jonathan, Max’s got their numbers”  
Billy nodded, fingers on the hem of his jeans. There was no blood on those, and Steve felt grateful for that.  
“I’m sorry, Harrington” He heard Billy say “For the beating I gave you at Byers. I swear. I’m so fucking sorry”. Steve stared.  
“I won’t say it’s ok, ‘cause it’s not” He answered, and put a hand on Billy’s wrist when he saw him tense. Billy flinched, and Steve kept the hand there “But i forgive you, ok? I do”  
Billy barked a laugh. “Fucking saint Steve. You’re too good for this world, Harrington”  
“Yeah, maybe. You got a cig?”  
Billy nodded and fished his pack from his jacket with his bandaged hand, offering it to Steve along with his lighter. Steve inhaled his dose of nicotine, and the silence stretched on.  
“What she did, you know” Billy chocked out after a while, voice barely above a whisper “Max, I mean. For you. Standing up to me. Nobody did it…fuck. You know what? I’m drunk. Fuck this”  
Billy’s eyes felt wet, and he put the cigarette in his mouth pretending to clean his face up to dry them, but Steve wouldn’t have that, not again. He slid closer, ankles around Billy’s boots, and crouched to catch his eyes.  
“Ehy, no. Come on” He urged “Tell me, ok? I wound judge. I would never”  
“You thought I was beating my sister just a few days ago” Billy hissed, and Steve felt guilty. A bit, but guilty anyway.  
“I didn’t know you, yet”  
“Oh, and now you do?”  
“A bit better, yes” Steve poked him on the shoulder “Back to the point, big guy. Tell me”  
Billy kept quiet for a while, drinking gin, smoking and looking to the side, then he seemed to gather his courage. “Nobody has ever tried to stop Neil. Dad, I mean. Like, nobody. I’m so sorry I did that to you. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, uh?” He shivered “It’s just that…shit, I’m so angry, Harrington. All the time. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m just like him. Just. I’m sorry. I don't want to be like him. I don't...I just don't know what to do.”  
“You’re not like him”  
Steve’s firm voice scared him: pure steel and blood and rage. He looked up, keeping quiet.  
“You’re nothing like him, ok?” Steve repeated, fisting one hand in Billy’s leather jacket “You’re not. You apologized, you’re sorry. I bet he never is”  
Billy shook his head, slowly, then swallowed and shuddered and Steve felt his stomach churn.  
“Why won’t you go to Hopper?”  
Billy frowned. “Who?”  
“Sorry. The police chief. He’s a friend, he could help you”.  
Billy bit his lip.  
“‘Cause it’s not that easy, Harrington. He would stay inside for how long, 72 hours? And then what? I like being alive”  
Didn’t seem so, the other night”  
“That’s not living” Billy punctuated “That’s surviving. Like some fucking animal. Do I look like an animal to you?”  
“Well, it depends on the day”  
“Fuck you very much, Harrington”  
Steve smiled.


	4. Best of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were in the school library, and Billy was waving poetry about Walt Whitman and fuck, if only teachers were able to talk about authors like he did, Steve’s grades would have been great from the beginning.

Were you born to resist or be abused?  
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?  
Foo Fighters - Best of you

Thing was, Billy’s grades were all straight As, and Steve suspected it had something to do with his father and the beating he could get should he disappoint him but, back to the point, Billy is fucking smart. He liked Metallica, ad AC/DC, and Motorhead, and Aerosmith, and Tygers of pan tang, and Black Sabbath, he liked horror movies and he was a real geek once you got to know him, like “Dustin would love you if he knew kind of geek”. He loved Star Wars, he loved Tolkien, he had actually helped Max with his character sheet for the new D&D campaign the kids were planning, but threatened to kill her should she tell it to someone. She told everyone, proud of her older brother, and was still alive. He was also a literature freak, maybe because he couldn’t really sleep well, and fuck if Steve couldn’t relate, with his Upside-Down nightmares. Billy’s monster lived with him, thought, and it sucked. Massively.  
The guy had a constant undercurrent of fear and aggression cursing through him, under his skin, and it made him jumpy, reckless and unpredictable, but Steve had learnt to read him and the whole school was shocked to see the newborn friendship blossoming between the former Keg King and the resident madman. They had lunch together, sometimes even with Nancy and Jonathan: the guy had warmed up to Billy after he heard about how he had apologized, and after an enlightening conversation about the New Wave Of British Heavy Metal, but Nancy was still skeptical and, honestly? Billy couldn’t care less. He was not good with people, and never would be. Let her think whatever he wanted.  
He and Steve paired up at group works in class, their clashes during basket practice had gotten less and less violent, but much more fun, and Billy was even tutoring him on english and literature, and Steve’s grades were actually getting better. They were in the school library, and Billy was waving poetry about Walt Whitman and fuck, if only teachers were able to talk about authors like he did, Steve’s grades would have been great from the beginning. Billy’s hands were moving wildly, hair jumping every time he moved his head, and Steve thought that what he was going through wasn’t fair. The guy was interesting at least, and great when he was in a good mood, and in the last weeks his relationship with Max had gotten much better. He was still angry at everything and everyone, but now he had Steve, at least. It din’t made him ready to talk to him about everything, but it helped none the less.  
So, Billy was tutoring him, and all of a sudden he stilled, eyes wide and huge grin and laughed. “Holy shit, Steve! I got a new album to show you. You’re gonna love those guys, I swear!”  
“Uh” Answered Steve, munching on his pencil “Weren’t we talking about Whitman, here?”  
Then felt like shit when he saw Billy’s face fall, after having witnessed one of the first real smiles on the guy’s face, and backtracked.  
“You know what? Who cares. Tell me about this band”  
Billy’s mouth quirked in a small smile.  
“No, you’re right. We should study”  
And what the fuck, his voice sounded so leveled and business like that Steve felt sick.  
“Come on, man” He whined “Now I’m curious. I wanna know, ok?”  
“Really” Billy’s face was the epitome of perplexity, his good eyebrow arched, lips turning down a bit.  
“Yeah, really” Steve sat back on his chair, hands under his armpit “I’m interested. Tell me”  
“You are, hm?” Billy still looked unconvinced “What about your crush on Duran Duran, hm?”  
Steve just smiled, hands brushing his jeans.  
“Come on, Hargrove. Teach me something about this good music of yours”  
That’s how Steve, that evening, went home with a head full of notions about this new band from L.A. (California, man! I fucking miss it!) and the next day found in his locker a new tape for his car with Guns N’Roses scribbled on it in Billy’s a bit fucked up calligraphy. And Billy had positively beamed while talking about those guys, their sound, how they had formed their band, the guitarist and his hat, and “the singer’s voice, Harrington. You got no idea, it’s so fucking powerful”, and Steve had stared. At him, at his hands, at his eyes, at his whole face, until Billy had noticed and smirked.  
“What, Harrington. You got the hot for teacher?”  
“Stop quoting Van Halen to me, asshole”  
Seriously. That guy.  
—  
School was much more bearable with a Billy on your side, Steve discovered. Once you got behind the fuck you mask, the guy was quite good company. They chatted, ate together, played basket and stuff, spent time together while watching the kids or, as Billy had started to call them, Steve’s little monsters. Because they were Steve’s and he didn’t want anything to do with them, thank you very much, and they reciprocated. All fo them but Max, actually: she liked having Billy around, and had even called Steve on his behalf on one bad night, when his father had found a motive to punch him or, actually, had created one. Steve had hurried down the road so fast that when he had arrived Billy was just stumbling out of the door, and Steve had stopped his fall with an arm around his shoulders while from inside a male voice kept on screaming, then Neil Hargrove had made an appearance on the porch and Steve had froze, arms still full of a shaking Billy.  
“And who the fuck are you?” Billy’s father had seethed “Billy’s faggot boyfriend?”  
Steve had tightened his grasp around Billy’s back, forcing him to walk, and got him in the car, listening to Neil’s cursing and the string of threats thrown at his own son, and Billy was totally terrified, eyes huge and watering, and blood cascading from his nose.  
“What happened?” Steve asked him once he got him buckled up, hands trembling on the wheel “I’m going to fucking kill him”  
Billy snorted but then an ugly sound tore itself from his lips and Steve hit the brakes, stopping the car just as Billy had started heaving, vomiting on the concrete.  
“I might have done something, Harrington” Billy winced as his hand caught his split lip, cleaning himself up “And my dad didn’t like it one bit”  
“No shit”  
Steve waited for him to sit down again and brought him home, his parents didn’t really care ho he brought to crash on their sofa. “What happened?” He asked again, softer, looking at Billy “For real, man”.  
“I…uh” Billy stammered, sitting on the closed lid of Steve’s toilet “I bought us tickets to see Metallica”  
Steve’s hand stilled.  
“You what?”  
“And my dad didn’t like it one bit once he discovered it” Billy went on, frantic “And Max tried to stop him, but he shoved her, so I defended her, and he…”  
Steve was watching him crumble.  
“He…I just” Billy’s eyes were wet, and the sight made Steve’s blood boil “I couldn’t let him, so I pushed her out of the way and he…” He put one hand on his eyes, breath ragged “Fuck. I can’t. I can’t”.  
Billy was coming apart, trembling in fear, pain and anger, and Steve didn’t even know where to start putting the pieces back together.  
“I’m going to touch you, ok?”  
“Fuck you, Harrington” Was the growled answer “Fuck you. You don’t care. You shouldn’t care, my dad will hurt you. You don’t…”  
“Back to this, are we?” Steve muttered “I’m going to fucking touch you, I’m going to get you in the shower, I’m going to make you something to eat and then I’m going to listen to everything you’ll feel like telling me, ok? And, we’re going to see Metallica”. Billy kept silent, hand on his face and lip trapped between his teeth.  
“Do what you fucking want”  
“As always, big guy” Steve put his hands around Billy’s shoulders and let him rest his head against his sternum, thumb tracing circles on the blonde’s neck “I care about you, Hargrove. I do, like it or not, I do. I got you”  
Billy nodded and brought up his head, eyes red rimmed and cheeks still dry.  
“Saint Steve, uh?”  
“Asshole” Steve got up, and Billy missed his warmth instantly “Can you stand up? Do you need any help with your clothes?”  
Billy shook his head, lifting his shirt on his bruised torso, then froze.  
“Shit. I gotta call Max. Gotta know if she’s safe”  
“Jonathan went and got her out” Steve said, and Billy visibly deflated “Used some excuse and brought her to his place”  
“God. Oh god. Shit”  
Billy’s hands were still shaking when he managed to wrestle his shirt over his head, then looked up at Steve and tried to smirk. What Steve saw was more of a grimace than anything alse, actually.  
“Are you going to stay there, pretty boy? ‘Cause I’m commando under those jeans”  
Steve rolled his eyes “Figures” He muttered, and got closer.  
“Max loves you” He said, taking in Billy’s shocked expression “She called me, she sounded so scared”.  
Billy looked at him: hairs in disarray, a simple green polo and hands in his pockets, but there was something powerful about Steve Harrington that he couldn’t help but admire. He nodded and tensed when the other teen got closer.  
“I don’t deserve her” He spat “And I don’t deserve you” Steve shrugged.  
“Don’t care. You got us anyway. And maybe Dustin too, I think he secretly admires your nerdyness”  
“Fuck sake, Harrington”  
Steve laughed, then turned on the shower and stepped back.  
“You deserve us, Billy” He said, one hand on Billy’s neck “You deserve something good”  
Later, when Billy had showered and they both had had something to eat, Steve watched him sleep on the couch and swore that he would have done anything in his power to keep him safe. Any fucking thing.


	5. Stand up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve felt protective of him, sure, especially after what he had discovered about his family, but Billy? Shit, the guy was a fucking beast when it came to someone he cared about. Hell, he had terrorized the kids that were giving a hard time to his sister and “her bunch of creepy friends” with merely an apparition and a couple of growled words, and now no one dared give them shit at school. A fucking bloodhound, that’s what he was.

Stand up  
take a bite  
whatever gets you through the night  
stand up  
stand up for your mistakes  
don’t give in to bad breaks  
stand up  
stand up and respond  
out to the future and beyond  
Bush - Stand up

Having a Billy at your side, Steve discovered, meant also having a full-time bodyguard: Steve felt protective of him, sure, especially after what he had discovered about his family, but Billy? Shit, the guy was a fucking beast when it came to someone he cared about. Hell, he had terrorized the kids that were giving a hard time to his sister and “her bunch of creepy friends” with merely an apparition and a couple of growled words, and now no one dared give them shit at school. A fucking bloodhound, that’s what he was. That’s why, when Steve found himself with a nose full of blood courtesy of Tommy’s elbow during basket practice, Billy had the guy against the wall with just one hand fisted on his shirt and murder in his eyes in mere seconds, and all Steve could do was watch the scene unfold, dazed by the blow and the shrill sound of the coach’s whistle.   
“The fuck is your problem, Hargrove?” He heard Tommy scream before the coach could rip Billy from his throat.  
“Apologize” Billy hissed “Fucking apologize, Tommy”  
“Fuck you, Hargrove!”  
And Billy would have done it, would have fucked up tommy’s face to hell and back, but the coach stopped him sending him to the locker room with Steve in tow, bloody and dazed and just a little amused by the whole situation.  
“What was that?” He asked around a mouthful of blood, spitting in the sink, watching Billy rummage through the first aid kit looking for some gauze and an ice pack.   
“Tommy’s an asshole” Billy mumbled getting closer “Lemme see”.  
Steve tilted his head back giving him space, and Billy put two fingers on the bridge of his nose, pressing here an there, making him hiss, then snorted.  
“You’re lucky, Harrington: nothing broken here” He smirked, cleaning him up “You’ll keep that pretty face of yours intact”  
Steve nodded, head still tilted back.  
“You seem pretty good at that”  
The grin that Billy gave him was all teeth: “Had to learn”  
And, suddenly, the image of Billy sitting on in own in his room after a beating, checking up his nose, came up to Steve’s mind.  
“Shit man, sorry”  
Billy arched one eyebrow and smirked again.  
“What for? Not your fault, pretty boy. Here, all done”  
Not yours either, Steve would have liked to answer, but kept his mouth shut and watched Billy strip, getting ready for the shower, and then…what the fuck?  
“Dude, is that a tattoo?”  
“Uh, what?”  
Billy turned around, hands in a head full of shampoo, and there, on his left calf, was the drawing of…something. Steve had always thought it was a bruise, but now he had had the time to check it out, and it was totally a tattoo.  
“Oh, this?” Billy grinned, looking down at it “A friend of mine did it, back in Cali. Should be a snake, looks more like a stain. Right?”  
Steve snorted and couldn’t help but nod, eyes still on the black mark on Billy’s skin.  
“Got it at 16, tried to keep it hidden but Neil found out and gave me the beating of lifetime”  
Steve contemplated it, then nodded.  
“Well, it sucks”  
“What sucks?” And Billy was looking at him then, blue eyes full of defiance.  
“Both, man” Steve nodded again “The beating, sure, but the tattoo sucks too”  
Billy looked at him again, a grin slowly spreading on his face, then started laughing, head tilted back and water cascading on his face.  
“Shit, Harrington” He managed after a while “It does, doesn’t it? It really sucks”  
Steve grinned and kept silent, getting under the spray of warm water next to him.  
“You know” He said “I’ve always wanted one. Maybe we might both get one together now that we’re eighteen. A properly done one, I mean”  
Billy thought about it, then smirked.  
“What, like some kind of friendship bracelet?”  
If Steve’s hands weren’t full of soap he would have pushed him. Well, who cared? He did it, spraying Billy’s face with shampoo. Billy took a step back and shook his head, cleaning it up, then flipped him.  
“Asshole”  
Billy laughed again, letting the shampoo fall from his head all along his back. Was that a new bruise? Had he had another run in with his father? Before Steve could ask, Billy was at it again.  
“Let’s say we do it, Harrington. What would you like to get?”  
Steve didn’t even need to think about it.  
“A nail bat”  
Billy froze and looked at him, eyes huge and all.  
“What the fuck, Harrington”.


	6. The stars (are out tonight)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, how are we going to Chicago, hm?” Steve asked as Billy sucked in his nicotine, fingers around the filter “Your car? My car? Tell me, big guy”  
> Billy puffed out smoke and breath in the cold air of the evening. “My car” He answered “Yours could decide to die on us whenever it wants”.  
> “Just if you don’t drive like a maniac”  
> “My car, my rules. And my music”

They burn you with their radiant smiles  
Trap you with their beautiful eyes  
They're broke and shamed or drunk or scared  
But i hope they live forever   
David Bowie - The stars (are out tonight)

 

“So, I’m gonna need a tape if I gotta come with you to that Metallica show, man”  
“Uh?” Billy looked up at Steve, sitting on the ground of the quarry on a ratty blanket he kept in the car because “Fuck, Harrington, Indiana is so cold!”. He closed his book he was reading as if his life depended on that and kept one fingers between the pages.  
“A tape, you know” Steve shrugged “I mean, I’d like to know at least one song before next Friday”.   
Billy crunched his beer can and threw him a look.  
“You want a Metallica tape, princess?” He asked, his infamous eyebrow arched “You sure you’ll survive it?”  
Steve positively pouted and Billy gave him his patented grin.  
“Asshole”  
Billy snorted and shook his head, falling again inside his book. Much to Steve’s shock, Billy and him had become really close and fuck if it didn’t feel weird. Steve was sitting on the hood of his car, legs spread out and eyes on billy, sprawled at his feet. He felt like ruffling that blonde mop he kept on his head, he really did. But what if Billy…he could kill him, fuck, he nearly did once. Steve slid down just a little bit, just a few inches, and touched the ground, feet planted on each side of Billy’s shoulders, and kept sitting there. Billy just passed him a beer, still engrossed in his book, and let his head thunk against the plate of Steve’s car. And Steve couldn’t fucking resist the urge.  
“Man” He began, not even knowing if he would have been able to complete the question “Can I…I mean. Can I touch your hair?”  
Billy just shrugged, and Steve’s eyebrows touched his hairline: he was either giving him permission or he was too taken by his book to listen. He reached down and found Billy’s head. And he did it. Ruffling Billy Hargrove’s hair was something he never though he would want to do, but there he was with his fingers in his curls, half shocked at the softness of it. Billy started and his back left Steve’s car, head tilted up and gaze fixed on him.  
“The hell” He muttered “The fuck are you doing, Harrington?”  
Steve froze, hands in mid hair and eyes widening: “I asked, ok?” He defended himself “I asked, and you shrugged, and I thought it was a yes, and I just wanted to do it”.  
Steve’s hands were still up in the air, ready to stop the fight, but Billy just sat there, eyes blank, frowning, then got up and kept on looking at Steve with vivid curiosity in his eyes.  
“You just wanted to do it”  
And yes, that’s when the idiocy of his actions caught up to Steve. He nodded.  
“Sorry”  
Billy just stood there, then put his hands in his pockets and took the few steps that separated him from Steve, head tilted up, and grinned, predatory, all blue eyes and teeth, and Steve felt like pushing his fingers through those curls again, just to see his face. So he did.  
“Stop it Harrington” Billy growled “Or else”.  
Steve snorted, and the thought that Billy’s threats didn’t scare him anymore left him smiling.  
“I thought you would have killed me”  
Billy threw him a downright evil gaze, but then fished his pack and took a cigarette.   
“So, how are we going to Chicago, hm?” Steve asked as Billy sucked in his nicotine, fingers around the filter “Your car? My car? Tell me, big guy”  
Billy puffed out smoke and breath in the cold air of the evening. “My car” He answered “Yours could decide to die on us whenever it wants”.  
“Just if you don’t drive like a maniac”  
“My car, my rules. And my music”  
Steve snorted again, nodding. Billy didn’t look so defensive anymore around him, didn’t look so ready to pounce as he used to. He seemed just a little more relaxed. It was something he had learnt to notice in those last days, and he had taken pride in learning to read him: he wasn’t that hard to understand under the hard façade. Sure, to get close to that Billy you had to avoid his fists, but once that barrier was gone things were much more smooth. Billy bristled with anger and nervous energy, constantly, and lashed out without even knowing it: seeing him relaxed and at ease, like he was while reading, felt somehow like a privilege.   
“Ok then. Your car, your rules and your music”  
Billy nodded, gulping down beer and smoke, then winked.  
“You got it, pretty boy”  
Steve choked.  
“Oh, and Harrington” Billy added, plopping down on the blanket again and letting his head fall back against Steve’s car “I’m doing your tape”  
—  
“So, you’re friend with Max’s brother now?”  
Steve knew that the conversation couldn’t be avoided, but having to justify himself to a kid so younger than him was unnerving anyway. He nodded, tapping the wheel, and turned down the volume of the radio: he was listening to Guns N’Roses, Billy’s tape. He had tired with Metallica but, safe for some songs, they were to heavy for him. Billy’s thought was still appreciated, anyway: the idea that the guy had gone out of his way to do something with him made him quite happy. Back to the point: Dustin was still looking at him, skeptical as a kid as young as he was could manage to be, so he had to answer.  
“He’s not so bad” He shrugged.  
“Not so bad” Dustin repeated sounding outraged “Not so bad? Man, the only good thing that guy has is his geekiness”.  
Steve mumbled something and kept silent, one eye on the road and one on the kid, and Dustin huffed.  
“He broke your face”  
“I know, I was there. He apologized, cut him some slack”.  
“And it makes it right? And he still has to apologize to Lucas”  
“I’ll tell him”  
Steve parked in front of the school, the place already filled with cars, kids and parents, and waited for Dustin to get out. Dustin made to move, but looked outside the window and exhaled an “oh, shit” that made Steve turn, too.  
Speak of the devil, Billy was there: hands in his pockets, crouched to be eye level with someone, Max at his side looking both stern and relieved.  
“What the hell is he doing there?” Dustin jumped out of the car running to the brothers, ignoring Steve’s screams of “Wait, Dustin!” behind him. Steve sighed, locked the car and followed the kid: Billy was still there, the same eyebrow raised, and he felt relieved to see that there wasn’t any new bruise on his face. Just when he had nearly reached him, Dustin jumped between Billy and whoever he was talking to, and Max’s face became the epitome of exasperation.   
“What do you want from him?” Steve heard Dustin ask, his voice betraying his fear and, from behind him, Lucas appeared.  
“He was apologizing” Max’s voice was dripping with the same sentiment painted on her face. Steve reached them and tapped Billy’s shoulder, sending him an interrogative glare, but Billy just kept silent and huffed, still crouching down.  
“My father is a racist fucker” He explained to Lucas “He would…you got no idea what he could do to you if he’d caught you two together” He balanced his weight on his heels and kept on “Besides, I know that max would have paid for it and, honestly? I couldn’t let it happen, kid. I’m…” He bit his tongue, irritated, then sighed “I’m sorry. You’re both old enough to choose who to hang around with”  
Max was nearly smiling, but the one more astonished by Billy’s little speech was Dustin: he looked at Steve with comically huge eyes.  
“So, where does this leaves us?” Asked Lucas, and Billy had to admire the steel in his voice, while Will and Mike followed the discussion from behind the kid’s shoulders.  
“Wherever you want, you tell me. I’m not going to stop you two anymore. Just, be careful”  
Lucas nodded, then adjusted the backpack on his shoulders. He looked older, Billy noticed. Wiser. Shit. Creepy.  
“I forgive you” He said, looking at him, and Billy couldn’t believe his ears “But you’re still an asshole, and this still doesn’t make it right”  
Billy snorted.  
“Ok, I deserved that”  
Lucas looked at him solemnly, then nodded again and turned to get inside the school. The last one to follow him was Max, who turned around and smiled at her brother.   
“Get in there, brat” Billy said with no bite “I don’t want to be there when Neil discovers you were late today” Max flipped him and obeyed: “Later, asshole!”  
“Language!”  
“Fuck you!” She laughed, and Steve just stood there, looking at Billy, a smirk on his face and hands in his pockets, still crouching.   
“So, you did that for her?” He asked, perplexed “‘Cause you looked pretty mad to me that evening”  
Billy got up, groaning, and dusted off his jeans.  
“I wasn’t…God. I had a run in with Neil, that evening. You were there. It was enough” Steve nodded, even if that explanation didn’t make him feel better “You have no idea how my dad can get”  
“Well, I think i might have a pretty good one”  
Billy nodded, following Max’s red hair with his eyes until he saw her get inside.  
“Gotta be honest with you, Harrington” He muttered “I did it for her alright, and what I did to that kid was fucked up. I know that. And I know that I did it for me too. I would have never let him touch Max, or even just scream at her like he does with me. She couldn’t take it, she’s just a kid. I would have gotten in his way, and he hates it when I react. He would have beaten me senseless. I didn’t know what to do, so I did what I did. Shit.”  
Billy’s hands were fisted around his leather belt, so tight and shaking, shoulders tense, and Steve felt honored to have Billy’s trust. He trusted him, and he had just confided him something private, something secret.   
“Are you talking from experience? About the beating, I mean” Steve asked, then waited for an answer than never came: Billy just shrugged but Steve knew that it was a yes. He wrapped one arm around Billy’s shoulders and kept it there until he felt him relax a bit, then steered him toward the school.  
“Come on, big guy, or we’ll be late”  
Billy snorted, sliding his aviators up on his nose, but Steve ruined his routine ruffling his curls again.  
“Harrington, I swear to God!”  
Steve just ran off, cackling.


	7. Drumming Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy looked at him, biting his lips, then crossed his arms on his chest.  
> “I suck at words, Harrington” He said after a while “Just…let me do this, ok? I’m not…I don’t…Shit” Billy fisted one hand on the sink, exasperated “I care. Alright? Just…let me. It’s the only way I know. Please”.

There's a drumming noise inside my head  
That throws me to the ground  
I swear that you should hear it  
It makes such an almighty sound  
Florence and the machine - Drumming Song

Tommy didn’t like them both anymore, Steve was sure of that now, one hand around Billy’s bicep trying desperately to keep them separated. It was nothing, really: Tommy had been calling Steve names and Billy had rebuked him with his classic sarcasm and had received a bloody nose for the disturb. Now, Hargrove wasn’t one to let anyone do that to him without retaliation, so Steve had found himself in the precarious situation he was in until Billy had managed to evade his grasp and land a punch on Tommy’s jaw. The guy fell with a yelp and Steve prayed, fucking prayed, that he would stay down. Billy was a hotheaded fucker, but he really couldn’t blame him for that: Tommy had thrown the first punch, after all, and Billy had just reacted. And, anyway, Tommy had been acting like an asshole for a while now, and a bit of a brawl had never killed anyone. Even if Billy’s right hook was mean as fuck. He managed to steer Billy towards one of the bathrooms of the school, but not before Tommy could say something stupid.  
“You’re dead, Hargrove!”  
“Yeah, get in the fucking line!”  
Billy had screamed back, half of the school looking at him spitting blood and saliva, and Steve had laughed, actually laughed, because it was something so Billy. So clearly him.  
“Is this so funny, pretty boy?”  
Billy pouted, resting his back against the bathroom’s wall and letting Steve inspect his nose. It wasn’t broken, he knew how a broken nose felt. Hurt like a bitch right to his brain, though.   
“Get in the fucking line” Steve tried, in his best impression of billy, and Billy grinned, all blood and teeth. A fucking shark in a leather jacket. Fuck.   
“What” He asked “You didn’t appreciate my humor?”  
Steve just shook his head with a smirk, then checked Billy’s nose one last time.  
“It stopped bleeding, you should clean up”  
Billy’s back left the wall and he checked himself in the mirror, the proceeded to splash water on his face…and Steve’s shirt.  
“Asshole” he muttered, looking at his now wet clothes “You don’t have to do that, you know”  
“What, being an asshole?” Billy smirked, drying is face “Can’t help it, I’m afraid”  
Steve rolled his eyes: “Not what I meant. I can defend myself”  
Billy looked at him, biting his lips, then crossed his arms on his chest.  
“I suck at words, Harrington” He said after a while “Just…let me do this, ok? I’m not…I don’t…Shit” Billy fisted one hand on the sink, exasperated “I care. Alright? Just…let me. It’s the only way I know. Please”.  
Steve just stood there, dumbfounded.  
“I just” He mumbled “I just don’t want you to get hurt”  
Billy smirked.  
“You know I’ve had worse, pretty boy” and, Steve huffed, hands up in the air, a frown on his face.  
“And I already told you, I don’t fucking…” He chocked when he felt Billy’s lips on his mouth, his hips keeping him still. Then Billy took a step back and winked, leaving the room.   
“I’ll pick you up at four, Harrington. Get ready for Metallica, ok?”  
Steve just stood there, gaping at him, then drowned his head in the sink. 

But Billy didn’t show up at four.


	8. I'm broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You jumped”  
> “Yep”  
> “From your window”  
> “That’s what i said”  
> “On the second fucking floor, Hargrove?”  
> “I might have miscalculated the landing”

Too young for one's conclusion, the lifestyle won.  
Such values you taught your son.  
That's how.

Look at me now.  
I'm broken.  
Inherit my life.  
Pantera - I’m broken

“And where do you think you’re going, William?”  
His father’s voice made him cringe, but what scared him most, what always scared him most, was that hand on the doorframe, stopping him from running, cutting any way out. His father stepped into his room and looked around, disgust etched on his face.  
“You’re so messy, boy. Clean up this place, now”.  
Billy knew it was bullshit, his room was pristine because it was close to be fucking empty. He had next to nothing there, safe for his books and his vinyls and tapes, and even those were neatly staked on their shelves.   
“I have an appointment, sir” He said, trying to stop his voice from cracking. His father just cocked his head and took a step towards him, Billy took a step back.  
“Oh, and with whom?” Neil’s hands were still in his pockets, but Billy couldn’t stop looking at them. He knew how quick they could be.   
“Just a friend from school, dad. Sir” Billy corrected himself, forcing his feet not to move. Plant your feet, boy.  
“Your faggot friend from the other day?” Neil was dangerously close now, and Billy felt his skin crawl. “And where are you two going?”  
“It’s just a concert in Chicago, sir”  
The backhand was expected, but hurt nonetheless. Billy crashed against his bookshelf and his shoulder screamed in pain.  
“When did you think to ask for permission, boy?” His father’s arm kept him pinned there, cutting his air, and Billy tired to free himself. No fucking way.  
“I told you, dad” He stammered “I told you after school, a few days ago” He felt his eyes prickle with tears. Shit. His father pushed him again against the shelves and his head collided with the wood with a dull thud.  
“And what did I say, boy?”  
“Nothing, you said nothing”  
You fucking beat me bloody, and said nothing.  
Billy felt like crying for real when his father kept on looking at him “Sir”, he added.  
Neil nodded and took a step back, letting Billy breathe, then fisted one hand in his hair.  
“Since when silence means yes, Billy? Since when?”  
He made Billy’s head collide with the shelves again and Billy let out a yelp of pain, then Neil’s hand retired and Billy fell hard on his knees, grimacing.  
“You’re not going anywhere, boy. Give me your keys”  
Billy felt his mouth go dry.  
“But, sir…”  
The backhand sent him again against the bookshelf and he heard something fall.  
“Your keys, boy”   
Billy gave him the keys, hands shaking in his jacket, and watched Neil leave.  
“Clean up your mess”, he heard, and then his father shut the door just when the phone started ringing. He felt himself shake, pure rage fueling him as he opened the window and jumped down. His left anke screamed in pain, but he kept on walking, tickets and cigarettes in his jeans pocket. 

—

It was 4,30 PM and Billy still wasn’t there. Billy, who had a freaking fixation with punctuality. Billy, who hand gone out of his ways to get those tickets. Billy, who cared for that show so fucking much. Billy, who cared for him too, who had kissed him. And Steve was worried. So worried that even hearing the voice of his abusive wanker of a father was worth the risk. He dialed the number and prayed that Max would be on the other end, remembering that Billy had driven her to the arcade when a male voice answered. He asked for Billy, of course he did, and when the voice said that he couldn’t come to the phone he felt dread coil in his stomach, took the keys of his car and sped towards Billy’s place. He found him after a few minutes, bloody, bruised and limping, and screeched to an alt beside him, throwing open the passenger door, afraid to see Neil appear somewhere. When billy sat down, hissing, Steve buckled him up, made a u-turn and sped off.  
“Jesus Christ, Hargrove” He exhaled, one eye on the road and the other on Billy “What the fuck happened?”  
Billy shook his head and hissed at the pain. Not doing that again. Noted.  
“I’m fine, I’m fine” He fell back on the seat dabbing at his split lip. Again. That thing would fucking scar.  
“Like hell you’re fine! Was it him? I’m going to fucking kill him!”  
Steve sounded frantic and Billy snorted, biting his bloody lip and arching his back when the BMW hit a hole in the road. “Shit man” he heard “Sorry. Let me see”  
The car swerved and he found himself being observed by a very worried Steve Harrington.  
“I’m fine” he repeated trying to smile “Just a couple of slaps. I’m fine”  
Steve shook his head.  
“You’re not. Your back?”  
“I might have hit it on some random furniture”  
“Fuck, let me check”  
Billy felt Steve’s hand on his back and followed his lead, hunching and letting his elbows fall on his knees, hands still shaking, then Steve’s fingers were on his skin, cautiously checking the bruises. “That sick fucker” he heard him say and sagged, head throbbing.  
“He made you hit your head, too?”  
Steve asked and he nodded, letting Steve card his fingers through his curls till he found a pretty painful bump.  
“We should get some ice for this” Steve muttered, and Billy shrugged.  
“It’s ok”  
“No, it’s fucking not. Stop saying that, Hargrove. Your leg?”  
And, much to Steve’s surprise, Billy grinned.  
“I jumped from my window”  
Steve stared.  
“You jumped”  
“Yep”  
“From your window”  
“That’s what i said”  
“On the second fucking floor, Hargrove?”  
“I might have miscalculated the landing”  
Steve laughed, in spite of everything. “You crazy fucker”  
Billy just smiled and slumped back.  
“Ready for some real music, Harrington?”  
Steve’s laughter died, and he turned around.  
“You still wanna go?”  
Billy nodded, fishing the tickets from his pocket.  
“You sure?”  
“Listen, my dad will know that I ran, at this point” Billy exhaled, head down “He’s going to kill me, tomorrow, so I gotta make it worth it, right?”  
“Don’t go home”  
Billy’s eyes widened. It would have been funny if they weren’t so red rimmed.  
“What?”  
“Don’t go home”  
Billy just looked at him, eyes wet, then adverted his gaze.  
“I can’t. What if he hurts Max? What if…”  
“He’s hurting you, Billy!”  
“I know!” Billy screamed, then chocked “I know, Harrington! Fuck! But I can’t leave Max alone with him, she couldn’t take it. She’s…”  
A strangled sound tore itself from Billy’s lips and Steve’s hair stood on his neck when he understood that it was a sob. Billy was crying, and it was scary as fuck.  
“Don’t go home” Steve repeated, one arm around Billy’s shaking shoulders and the other around his chest “We’ll get Max, she can stay with us. We’ll think about something. Don’t go home”  
Billy laughed, the sound wet and wrong.  
“I’ll think about it, ok? I will”  
Steve nodded, hair brushing against Billy’s back, then crouched down, hands finding his wet cheeks, and found his eyes.  
“I don’t want you to get hurt again. I can’t stand to see you hurt”  
Billy didn’t move, didn’t close his eyes as Steve kissed him, but managed a small smile when Steve’s lips kissed the tip of his nose.  
“Don’t go home” He repeated.  
“Ok” Billy breathed “Ok. But just for a few days”  
“Better than nothing” Steve grumbled, then kissed him again. “I don’t share, Hargrove. And I won’t let your father touch you a-fucking-gain. Got it?”  
And Billy believed him.


	9. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That guy is awesome!” He screamed in Billy’s ear, and was rewarded with a wide grin and a nod.  
> “That’s Cliff Burton, man!” He screamed back, keeping him safe in his one armed hug.

So, the concert I'm talking about really took place at the Metro in 1983, you can find it on YouTube. Anyway, I know that this story is set a few years after, and that in 1983 Ride the lightning wasn't out yet, but bear with me. Pretty please.

\---

Out for my own, out to be free  
One with my mind, they just can't see  
No need to hear things that they say  
Life is for my own to live my own way  
See them try to bring the hammer down  
No damn chains can hold me to the ground  
Life is for my own to live my own way  
Metallica - Escape

“Give me directions, man! I don’t know where the fuck I’m going!”  
Steve laughed as Billy consulted the map and grunted.  
“Just a sec, ok? Asshole!”  
“Not helping!”  
“Fuck, Harrington! Turn left!”  
Steve’s car tires screeched as he forced the BMW to turn in a secondary road, laughing like a maniac at Billy’s grinning face, then he hit the brakes again.  
“Stop, Harrington! Fuck!” Billy was looking behind, hands on the headrest like a child “We’re here!”  
And, sure as hell, Billy was right: the Metro looked like an old movie theatre, and maybe had been one and shit, it was beautiful. Steve spent some time driving in circles to find a place to leave the car, and then they got out and went inside, mesmerized by the place, the music and the crowd. Steve might have felt out of place with his bloody blue polo, but for Billy those people felt like home. He felt like he belonged there, and made sure that Steve would feel the same giving him his black sweatshirt and leaving just his Metallica t-shirt on. Dressed in black Steve melted easily in the crowd, and the smile Billy got as a reward repaid him for the bruised ankle he suffered after his two stores jump.  
The venue itself was already packed and the front row was out of reach, fuck Neil and his talent to make Billy’s life hell, so they just stood there, looking around. The place wasn’t huge, and the stage wasn’t really tall, but it was what they needed. It looked perfect, and when the lights dimmed Steve found himself tucked under Billy’s arm, shielded from the mess that the place had just became. People were fucking everywhere and the band, shit, the band. He had never experienced such raw power and sheer anger coming from a guitar. It wasn’t familiar, but it was savage and wild and beautiful, and as he looked at Billy he felt his chest swell with affection and pride. The guy had come a long way, had changed a lot, and now they were in a strange relationship, as close as they had never been. Billy looked at him and gave him the first huge, joyous smile he had ever seen on his face, the one he saw in the school library had nothing on this. This one was dazzling, and and Billy’s eyes were blue and lit and happy, blonde hair all over the place, and Steve tightened his hold around him, feeling warm skin and sweat and the smell of smoke and cologne that was so Billy. He could have gotten high on that smell alone, and feeling him under the pads of his fingers felt exhilarating. He smiled watching Billy sing along, head tilted back and hand up in the air, and then it happened. He knew that song, it was in the tape Billy had made him, and it was about one of his favorite books by Hemingway. Before he knew what he was doing he was singing For whom the bell tolls with hundreds of other kids, feeling empowered and exalted by the anger that that music seemed to held. And the bass player. Holy shit. He could do magic.  
“That guy is awesome!” He screamed in Billy’s ear, and was rewarded with a wide grin and a nod.  
“That’s Cliff Burton, man!” He screamed back, keeping him safe in his one armed hug.  
It was crazy, it was noisy, it was powerful, it was great. The end of the show saw the both of them sweaty and half dead on their feet (and shit, Billy’s ankle hated him now), but still bristling with a lethal mixture of adrenaline and satisfaction. Billy went collecting their jackets, and Steve pointed to the bar.  
“I’ll grab something to drink” He screamed, still dazed “You thirsty?”  
“Sure, man!” Billy nodded, keeping his place in the growing line, until a guy bumped against him. He couldn’t help it, he flinched so hard that the guy noticed, and stared. At his split lip. At his bruised face.  
He was older, bulky, all long hair and black shirt and destroyed jeans, and Billy didn’t know if he was expecting a punch or some excuses as he sneered, but he didn’t expect what happened. Te guy looked at him up and down, sighed and ruffled his hair. What the fuck was wrong with his hair and people putting their hands on his head he would never know. Just when he was going to tell him to fuck off, the guy asked him: “You alright, kid? You here alone?”  
He looked so serious, and Billy wanted to tell him to mind his own business, he was eighteen and perfectly capable of taking care of himself, fuck you very much, but couldn’t find the words, so he just shook his head. The older kid sighed again, one hand on his beard and the other on Billy’s shoulder.  
“It will get better, kid” He said, studying his beaten up face “It’s gonna get better”. He ruffled his hair again and pushed a beer in his hands, leaving him alone, and Billy just stood there amazed and half scared. He had felt fucking safe, and it was something so alien to him that he had to concentrate to recognize the feeling. That guy had felt safe, like some kind of older brother. Steve felt safe. Max felt safe. He collected the jackets, still in a daze, and waved to Steve while he saw him approach with two sodas.  
“Sorry man, they wouldn’t give me alcohol, and..where the fuck did you get that?”  
“Uh?” Billy blinked, then shrugged and took a sip “I met a guy, he gave me this. Want some?”  
Steve looked at him, cocking his head.  
“Nah man, I’m fine” He answered, pocketing one of the cans “Besides, I’m driving”  
Billy nodded, looping one arm around Steve’s shoulders.  
“We could take turns”  
“No way, Hargrove” Steve laughed, opening his soda “I’m driving, you’re resting. Fuck knows you need that after the shitty afternoon you had”.  
Billy smirked, tightening his hold.  
“Had a great evening, anyway”, but Steve shook his head.  
“Don’t care. I’m driving, you’re sleeping”  
Steve unlocked the car and sat down, waiting for Billy to do the same.  
“Bossy” Muttered Billy “You like ordering me around, uh?”  
Steve smirked.  
“My car, my rules. Come on”  
Billy snorted as steve lowered his seat, adjusting against it.  
“Actually, I might like ordering you around, Hargrove” He heard Steve say “But maybe I like spoiling you more. Got a problem with that?”  
Billy curled on the seat, head turned towards Steve, and gave him a small smile.  
“Nope”  
“Good”  
Steve kissed him in the safety of the dark car, and Billy closed his eyes. When he opened them again they were in Hawkins.  
“Hey, sleeping beauty” Steve teased “Ready to get home? We’re nearly there”  
Billy stared and nodded, and let Steve kiss his forehead when the car stopped.  
“You’re safe, here”  
And fuck, it felt so damn good.

\---

I saw Metallica just twice, since they don't tour Italy as much as I'd like them to, but each time has been glorious.  
And I can confirm that us metalheads are gentlemen and perfectly fine ladies, always ready to lend a hand to our comrades and drink together and jump as one in a huge pit.

Oh, yeah.


	10. Love can only heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He let his head fall against Steve’s sternum, feeling his breath on his hair, just before a pair of arms went around him, keeping him there.  
> Safe.  
> Such an underestimated concept.

Did it let you go  
When you lost your way  
Did it throw you to the wind and watch you break  
Does it haunt you now  
Are you ever safe  
The empty space inside of you can't take

Nevermind the pain  
'Cause love can only heal  
If only you could trade the dark for light it might reveal  
That there's a place inside  
Don't be afraid to feel  
'Cause love can only heal  
Myles Kennedy - Love can only heal

“So, uh” Steve stared at Billy, already sitting on the couch, and cocked his head “You know, we could…” He didn’t end the sentence, Billy was up and reaching for him.  
“Of course I wanna sleep with you, Harrington” He encircled his waist and Steve stared again, then snorted.  
“But just sleeping, alright? I’m wasted” Billy raised one eyebrow and pinched Steve’s ass, making him jump.  
“Whatever you say, pretty boy” He laughed, then looked around “I’m gonna need something to sleep in” He said, sounding both insecure and embarrassed, and Steve kissed his forehead.  
“No problems, I got you”  
And Billy knew that he wasn’t just talking about clothes. They had each other’s backs, and it felt good, and safe, and warm. He let his head fall against Steve’s sternum, feeling his breath on his hair, just before a pair of arms went around him, keeping him there.  
Safe.  
Such an underestimated concept.   
He let Steve surround him then bit his neck, and Steve flicked his head making him smile.  
“Let’s go to bed, uh?”  
“Sure, big guy”  
Billy followed him to his room, and it was pretty nice, he decided. Well furnished, surely comfortable and just a bit messy. He smiled, taking in Steve’s old pictures with his parents and some other children, then turned around.  
“It’s a nice place” He said and Steve, perched against the doorframe, smiled back.  
“You’ve been here before”  
Billy shrugged.  
“Well, it’s nice anyway”  
Steve nodded and kept silent, taking his time to look at him. Sure, he had done his good amount of staring since they had became friends, but now it was different: he felt authorized to look at him, to catalogue every tiny movement of his head, and his hands, and his eyes, and…  
“Man, why don’t you take a picture? It’ll last longer”  
Billy was looking at him, hands on his hips and half a smile on his lips, and Steve snorted.  
“Maybe I should” He said, and Billy rolled his eyes, then sniffed himself and took the three steps that separated them.  
“Yep, shower” He said, grabbing Steve by his elbow and starting to drag him towards the bathroom.  
“Wait, what?” Steve stammered, tripping on his own feet, and Billy snorted, opening the bathroom door. How many times had he showered there? And doing it without having been beaten to a pulp felt weird. Well, wasn’t it fucked up?  
“Man, I smell. And you smell” He said, starting the shower “We can’t go to bed like this, it’s fucking gross”. Steve nodded, but froze when Billy started to strip, hands under his armpits. Billy stopped in mid motion, shirt in his hand and unzipped jeans still on, and looked at him.  
“You’re gonna shower with your clothes on, pretty boy?”  
Steve wanted to say something funny, and smart, but what came out was just “God, you’re so beautiful”. Billy’s eyes went huge, but then his trademark smirk was back on full force, eyes roaming up and down Steve’s body.  
“Well you’re not so bad yourself. Would be even better without clothes” He said and was in his face in two steps, lips on Steve’s and hands in his hair, and Steve couldn’t help himself, really couldn’t. He moaned in his mouth, hands traveling on his bare back, and had just gathered the courage he needed to let them slide inside his jeans when Billy stepped back and kissed his nose.  
“Shower, pretty boy” He smirked, turning around and letting his jeans fall in a heap on the floor. Commando again, Steve thought, taking in the expanse of skin in front of his eyes. His hands already missed the warmth of Billy’s body, but he forced himself to calm down, exhaled and stripped.  
“What’s wrong with you and underwear?” He muttered getting in the shower, taking in Billy’s wet hair and the planes of his stomach.  
“Why should I wear two layers when one is enough?” Billy smiled, the squirted some soap in his hand and motioned for Steve to turn around. He cocked one eyebrow but obeyed, and soon Billy’s hands were on his back, washing away sweat and the smell of smoke and booze, letting his hair soak in the water, and felt Billy’s fingers move to his neck, his arms, and finally his hair. Billy’s fingers were massaging his scalp, and Steve let out a moan without even knowing what he was doing.  
“Fuck, Steve” He breathed “Keep on moaning like that and…”  
He couldn’t finish his sentence, because Steve’s lips were on his and Steve’s hand was around him and shit, he felt his knees buckle and was sure he would have been on the floor without the tiles supporting his back. He wasn’t expecting Steve to start it all, but wasn’t surely complaining. He hit his head against the wall, feeling the water on his face, then tried to move his hands to reach for him, but all he got for his efforts were a particularly hard kiss and a stroke so perfectly angled that he moaned so loudly in Steve’s mouth he was afraid he had awoken the whole town.  
“Don’t move, Hargrove” Steve growled “I’m going to spoil you rotten, then we’re going to sleep. You can take care of me next time, ok?”  
Billy managed to look crossed for a couple of seconds, but then Steve forced him to tilt his head and bit his neck, and all of his objections fell flew from the window: he nodded and bit his lip as he came, panting against Steve’s skin, then looked at him through hooded eyelids.  
Shit, he was beautiful. Steve was beautiful, and smiling, and warm, and Billy felt boneless as he let himself be manhandled under the water, feeling Steve’s hands on his body, washing his skin and his hair, leaving him clean and, fuck, happy.  
“The things you do to me” He heard Steve say, and snorted.  
“Me, uh?” He kissed him, tasting water and soap, then grinned. “I’m so going to wreck you next time”  
“Can’t wait” Steve smiled, and Billy felt like he was going to fucking burst. That guy. Shit.  
-  
“So” Steve asked him when they were both in bed, slotted one against the other “Billy is short for William, right?”  
“Uh?” Billy managed to sound both confused and amused, half asleep already.  
“Billy. Is it short for William?”  
“Come on, Steve. Trying to sleep here”  
“Is it?”  
Billy’s eyes opened, eyebrows raised. He huffed.  
“Fine. Yes, it is. Why do you wanna know so bad? And don’t fucking call me that”  
Steve nodded and moved a blonde curl behind his ear. It was still a bit damp.  
“Can I call you Will?”  
“Will?” Billy sputtered, eyes huge “Isn’t that one of your little monsters? Are you going to adopt me too?”  
“Asshole” Steve laughed, then started drawing circles with his fingers on Billy’s shoulder blade “I just want to call you by your name…I mean” He sighed and shook his head “I want to call you in a way he doesn’t. I don’t want your name in his mouth. I want it to be just mine”  
Billy just stared, and Steve started to think that he might have crossed some line, until the blonde exhaled, breath a bit trembling, and nodded.  
“Fuck, Harrington” He said, kissing him “You can call me Billy, you can call me Will, you can even call me William. Will sounds good. Call me whatever you like. I don’t deserve you. I fucking don’t”  
Steve groaned and touched his forehead with his lips.  
“Told you, don’t care. And, actually, you do”  
“If you say so”  
“Shut up and sleep, big guy”  
“Bossy”  
You love it”  
“I fucking do”


	11. Bring it on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m going to tell you something, Harrington. Steve” He corrected himself, because now Steve was his Steve, and fuck it “I’m going to tell you something, and I need you to not interrupt me or I won’t be able to go on, and I’ll get seriously pissed. Ok?”  
> “Ok” Steve whispered “I’m listening”

This garden that I built for you  
That you sit in now and yearn  
I will never leave it, dear  
I could not bear to return  
And find it all untended  
With the trees all bended low  
This garden is our home, dear  
And I got nowhere else to go  
So, bring it on, bring it on  
Every little tear  
Bring it on, every useless fear  
Bring it on, all your shattered dreams  
And I’ll scatter them into the sea  
Nick Cave - Bring it on

Steve felt like he had just fallen asleep when he was awoken by…static? He jumped up, frantic, because static means monsters, and monsters meant danger, and he had to keep everyone safe and Billy, fuck, Billy knew nothing about all that shit and he should have told him…  
“Steve?”  
The static said, and Steve focused on the present, on Billy’s curls and his eyes now that he was awake, too, and looking at him with something akin to worry in his gaze. It was the walkie the kids had given him, it was just that, and Max’s voice was calling him. Shit.   
Steve exhaled, hands in his hair, and then felt himself being engulfed in a sleepy hug by none other than Billy Hargrove, his Will.  
“Sorry if I woke you up” He mumbled “Looks like your sister needs me”.  
Billy kissed his forehead and arched one eyebrow, taking the walkie from the nightstand and punching the communication button.  
“What is it, brat?”  
He mumbled with a yawn, arm still around Steve. Max’s voice was shrill when she answered.  
“Billy! You ok? You disappeared! You scared me to death, asshole!”  
“What the hell, guys? It’s like six in the morning, and it’s a Saturday!” Dustin’s voice grumbled, and Max answered him too.  
“Go back to bed, Dustin!”  
“Then stop screaming!”  
“Guys, is everything ok?” Mike’s voice inquired, followed by Lucas asking them all to shut up. Billy groaned, head in the crook of Steve’s neck, Steve’s fingers in his curls.  
“Is this some kind of meeting?” He asked, and Steve snorted taking the walkie from him.  
“Max, Will is fine. Billy, I mean” He said “He’s here, he’s safe. Go back to bed, kids”  
Lucas mumbled a “finally” that stole a smile from Billy, and it took a while for Max to answer.  
“Alright” she said “Just be careful when you get home. It’s…be careful”  
Billy’s breath itched and he stole the walkie from Steve’s hand, eyes huge and a frown forming on his face.  
“You alright, Max?”  
Silence, again, then Max’s voice came back.  
“I’m fine, Billy, it’s you I’m worried about”  
“What’s happening?” Will quipped, and when Max and Billy barked “None of your business!” at the unison, Steve felt bad for the kid. The boys heard Max exhale, than she spoke again.  
“I think you should…you know. Be very careful when you come back. Lay low. He’s angry.”  
“Who’s angry?” Dustin asked but no one answered. Steve’s fingers were carding through Billy’s hair, mindful of the bump hidden in his curls, then he took the walkie from his fingers and let Billy use him as his personal pillow.  
“He’ll be staying here for a few days, Max” He stated, eyeing Billy, trying to understand what he was thinking “You think it’s ok?”  
“Billy is staying with you?” Dustin asked, but then El’s voice crackled from the walkie. “Dustin, shut up. It’s important”  
And no one said anything anymore. If El said that it was important it meant that it was. The kids knew that.  
“I don’t know, Steve” Max answered, whispering “The reaction would be the same, anyway, so he could stay with you for a while…uhm. Rest”  
Billy heard what she couldn’t say: he’s gonna beat you up, sooner or later, nothing can change that, and felt like screaming. He thumped his head against Steve’s shoulder and Steve tightened his grasp around him.  
“I won’t tell them where you are, don’t worry about that”  
Billy felt a lump grow in his throat and tried to swallow it, to no avail. He felt trapped. No way out for him. All he could chose was when, but how, where and who were already written in stone. He nodded when Steve motioned him towards the walkie and took it, cleaning his voice.  
“Thanks, Max” He rasped, voice breaking “Now go to sleep, brat. It’s still early”  
Another static, then “Asshole”. There was a smile in Max’s voice. The kids kept silent.  
-  
“You’re not going back there”  
Billy didn’t answer, hands on his laps and back against the wall behind Steve’s bed: he just shrugged, gaze firm on the door, looking as if he was somewhere else.  
“I have to, Steve. I can’t just disappear”   
“You can. You should”  
Billy snorted, looking at his own hands, and slid down under the covers.  
“My hero, Saint Steve”  
Steve got serious, ager boiling in his gut, hands twitching. He didn’t get it, that resignation, that fucking feeling that Billy, his Will, had given up. That he didn’t care anymore about his own safety, about his own wellbeing, about his own fucking life. It made Steve’s mind go blank, fear clawing at his brain and, before he knew, he had left the bed and had started pacing around his room, the light of dawn streaming from the window. Billy observed him without saying a word, blanket under his chin, eyes following his movements. Then, Steve stopped. He just stopped and breathed and shook his head and left the room, and Billy felt immediately small and scared in that big bed, sure that he had driven Steve away somehow. He felt alone, and guilty for something he didn’t comprehend but was surely his fault. It had to be his fault, that’s just how things were: in his own contorted way, Billy had internalized what Neil always said. There was something wrong with him, he didn’t know what but it was there, and Billy had tried with all his might to rectify it when he was just a child. Everything to stop his father’s hatred, he would have done anything for that. Then his mom had left, leaving him alone with Neil, and maybe he beat her too, maybe not, but the thing was that an eleven years old kid was left alone with a monster and had to become one to survive. He was just like his father, he knew he was. He kept on hurting people, scare them away, and now he had driven Steve away too because there was something wrong with him. He clung to the covers, breath short, and brought his legs closer to his body, shutting off everything else.  
-  
Steve was furious: how could Billy be that resigned, so ready to accept his fate and be beaten bloody by that poor excuse for a human being he had as a father? There was no way he was going back there, no way he was going to let him. No fucking way. He knew that Billy felt like he had to protect his sister, but Steve had to protect him, and he fucking would, everything else be damned. He opened the fridge, pouring chocolate flavored milk in two brightly colored plastic cups, then got back to his room trying to be as silent as possible: his parents knew Billy, and they even liked him, but he didn’t want them to awake anyway. When he reached his door he opened it with a socked foot and put the two cups on the nightstand, moving to sit on the bed when he noticed Billy’s eyes: they were glassy and distant, with a faraway gaze that gave him the chills. Billy was still as a fucking statue, and it was unnerving.  
“Will, what’s wrong?” He tried, one hand tentatively touching blond curls “You alright?”  
Billy wouldn’t meet his eyes, he just nodded and kept silent, and Steve’s brain finally got it. He shouldn’t have left like that, it was a dumb move. He didn’t think it would set him off like that but shit, the guy had some serious issues and maybe, just maybe…  
“Sorry”  
Steve’s breath got caught in his throat hearing Billy’s voice and he slid under the covers, chest against Billy’s back, spooning him.  
“What for, babe?” He asked, kissing his ear. Billy bit his lip.  
“I’m a fuck up. I’m not…” He closed his eyes “I fucked up. pissed you off. There is just…it’s wrong. Im wrong”  
Steve just listened, grasp tightening around him, ad felt the same, familiar anger grow again. It was different, this time. It was pure protective instinct, pure rage at Neil Hargrove for making his son doubt himself so much.  
“It’s not you, Will” He said, lips against Billy’s neck “It’s your father, not you. You’re ok, it’s ok”.  
Billy kept silent for a while, then nodded.  
“I’m going to tell you something, Harrington. Steve” He corrected himself, because now Steve was his Steve, and fuck it “I’m going to tell you something, and I need you to not interrupt me or I won’t be able to go on, and I’ll get seriously pissed. Ok?”  
“Ok” Steve whispered “I’m listening”  
Billy took a huge breath and then decided that he would do that, tell him, and then he would have seen what to do. Steve wouldn’t laugh at him, right? God, he hoped so.  
“I’ve always thought that there must be something wrong with me” He started and felt Steve tense. He was grateful for his presence and his silence, he needed them “My mom left when I was eleven, my father never liked me. There has to be something, right? And I can feel it, sometimes. Fuck, I feel it, always. This anger, it hurts. It makes my stomach burn, my throat fill with acid, even my mouth burns sometimes. When I’m like that, everything hurts. I always feel like puking of punching something, anything. And it’s not normal, it’s wrong” He shuddered, a fucking full body shiver, and realized he had never said it to anyone before Steve. He never had had someone who cared so much.  
“I didn’t really hate you in particular, at the beginning. I hated everyone. Even fucking Tommy, even Max, even all those girls I had sex with. I hated everyone. But then you came, fucking saved me from freezing to death in my own car and told me to call you should it happen again, even if I had beaten you up so bad. You saved me, again and again. And I feel like I don’t deserve it, Steve, because there is something wrong with me”.  
He closed his mouth, nostrils flaring, eyes wet and breath too fast, and waited for the inevitable. For Steve to tell him that that he really was a fuck up, but it didn’t happen. He felt Steve shift behind him, and let himself be manhandled until they were face to face. Steve’s eyes were shiny, and he felt guilty for that pain too, but Steve smiled and brushed his lips with his thumb.   
“You’re a hotheaded fucker” He said, and Billy recoiled, scared and dumbfounded “You jump into things without thinking about the consequences. You’re fucking crazy, and drink too much, and smoke too much”.  
Billy felt confused and even more scared. There was no way that could end well, but Steve’s smile grew.  
“You’re so fucking smart, Will” He said, fingers in his hair “You’re passionate, and smart, and witty. You can talk about literature and make me fall in love with it, you’re so beautiful it hurts. And you can pretend not to care for max as much as you want, I’m not falling for it” Steve finally gathered him in his arms and Billy felt like he could breath again “You’re hurt, Will, and you’re angry, and you have every right to be. But you’re not him. You’re not him, babe”.  
Steve’s hands were drawing patterns on his back, and Billy melted against his chest, hands fisted in his shirt. Steve kissed his hair. He loved those curls so much.  
“Let us help you, Will. Please. Let me help. Let me call Hopper”.  
“And then what?” He whispered, and felt so damn close to break down that he had to shut his eyes and squeeze them hard not to explode.  
“Then we talk to him and we’ll see. We talk to Max too, she can’t stay there. It’s not safe”  
“It’s not so easy” Billy shook his head “She loves her mom, and Susan loves her. We can’t separate them. It’s not right”  
“We won’t babe. We’ll talk to Hopper and we’ll see what we can do, ok?”  
Billy nodded, still not believing what he was agreeing to, and felt Steve deflate.  
“Thanks, babe” he heard “Thank you”  
He shook his head, wild curls flying everywhere.  
“I’m the one that should thank you. You keep saving me. Fucking Saint Steve”  
Steve laughed and kissed him, then got comfortable on the pillow: red eyed and tired, and Billy was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.  
“What are you going to do after graduation?” He asked, and realized that he was afraid of the answer. What if Billy wanted to leave? What if he didn’t want to…  
“What are you going to do?” Was Billy’s answer, and Steve had to think about it.  
“College” He finally said “In Chicago, or Indianapolis. I hope”  
Billy nodded, then got closer to him.  
“Then I suppose I’ll have to find a job there, I got nothing to keep me here safe for Max, and I can visit anyway. Gotta find something to do. Don’t want to be a dead weight”   
Steve felt a face splitting grin form on his face and kissed Billy hungrily, leaving him breathless.  
“Really?”  
“What the fuck, princess? Of course!” Billy smiled, back to his old self, then put his hair behind his ear.  
“I’ll have to go home and get some clothes, and my school things, if I am to stay here for a while.” He yawned and smiled when Steve kissed him again, dizzy with happiness “I’ll wait for Neil to get out, and when Max will give me clearance with that walkie of yours I’ll go and get my stuff”  
“I can accompany you”  
“No need” Billy kissed his nose “I’ll be fine. And now, I’m going to sleep some more. And you’re going to sleep too, princess. I don’t like those bags under your eyes.”  
Steve nodded. He didn’t like the idea of Billy going back to that place alone, but he wouldn’t stop him, it wasn’t his right. He watched billy fall asleep and followed him, milk forgotten on the nightstand.


	12. I'm eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As soon as he got inside his room, and had locked his door for good measure, the walkie crackled to life and Steve’s voice made him jump out of his skin. He was nervous, he was scared, and that thing wasn’t helping.  
> “Will, you alright?”   
> “I’m fine, pretty boy” He said, voice low “Don’t worry, I’ll be out in five”

I got a baby's brain and an old man's heart   
took eighteen years to get this far  
Don't always know what I'm talkin' about   
feels like I'm livin' in the middle of doubt  
'Cause I'm eighteen I get confused every day   
eighteen I just don't know what to say  
Eighteen I gotta get away. I gotta get out of this place!

Alice Cooper - I’m Eighteen

In the end, Steve had to actually drive Billy to his place because, hello? His car was still there, and his father still had his keys.  
“Wait, wait” Billy made Steve stop the BMW a few streets away from his home “Stay here, ok? I’m not taking any risks”  
“Will, I’m not going to let you…”  
“Fuck sake, Steve!” Billy threw his hands in the air, and Steve fell silent “Just listen to me, ok? I don’t want you near that place. Max told me that Neil and Susan went out, but I don’t know when he’s going to be back. I don’t want you close to him. Ever”  
Steve looked at him, stunned, then surged up and fisted his hands in Billy’s shirt, kissing him with such desperation that billy was left speechless.  
“Be careful, ok?” Steve panted against his lips, than gave him a walkie “Take this, I’ve got the other one. Something happens, you use it. Say it”  
Billy took the walkie, hiding it in the inside pocket of the leather jacket, then nodded, but Steve put his hand on his shoulder.  
“Will, say it. Please”  
Billy looked at him and felt fucking blessed, because Steve Harrington was enough of a nutcase to stick with a fuck up like him. He knew that Steve would have had something to say if he discovered that Billy still felt like that about himself but couldn’t really help it: he still had the feeling that there was something wrong with him, something evil and deformed that made his mother run and his father hate him. But not Steve: he was still there, solid and real, and Billy felt grateful and, for the first time in ages, not alone.  
“I will take this” He said “I will take this, and call you if something happens”  
“Good boy” Steve muttered, and Billy stiffened.  
“The fuck, Harrington. Do I look like a labrador?”  
Steve laughed, wrapping his arms around Billy’s neck.  
“Maybe. Have you seen your hair?”  
“Fuck you very much”  
Steve kept him close, lips on his neck, and squeezed.  
“Be careful. Please”  
Billy nodded, secured the walkie and got off the car, starting to run as soon as his feet hit the concrete. He didn’t expect to see Neil’s truck in front of the house but remembered what Max had told him, that him and Susan had taken Susan’s car, and managed to quell the panic that had started to rise in his throat at the mere view of that fucking thing. He got in through the kitchen window, forcing himself to trust his sister and, true as hell, the place was heavenly empty. He let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding and made his way to the counter, grabbed two plastic bags and climbed up to his room on the second floor, looking for clothes and his school stuff.  
As soon as he got inside his room, and had locked his door for good measure, the walkie crackled to life and Steve’s voice made him jump out of his skin. He was nervous, he was scared, and that thing wasn’t helping.  
“Will, you alright?”   
“I’m fine, pretty boy” He said, voice low “Don’t worry, I’ll be out in five”  
“Why are you whispering?” Steve asked, and Billy didn’t know what to say. It was a habit that that place always brought out of him. The need to be inconspicuous, to go unnoticed.   
“Fuck if I know” He muttered, and could almost picture Steve’s snort in his head.  
“Ok, big guy. Be careful”  
“Of course, mom”  
Billy smiled and started collecting clothes, books and school supplies, when the walkie went off again.  
“Will” Steve’s voice crackled again “Max and Lucas are on their way there. It’s just them”  
Billy froze. What if Neil got back and found Lucas there? Had Max gone crazy? What the hell? He grabbed the walkie to answer bud didn’t know what to say, so he let it fall in his inner pocket grumbling when he heard the voices of the kids downstairs.  
“Billy?” He heard Max call “Are you there?”  
“I’m up here, brat” He sighed, both exasperated and relieved, unlocking the door “Move”  
Max’s head poked from the door, red hair flaring behind her, and Billy looked at her with his hands on his hips, the perfect image of an angry mom that made Max snort.  
“Steve is rubbing off on you” She said, entering his room with a shuffling Lucas in tow.  
“You shouldn’t be here” Billy hissed, hands still on his hips because, fuck you Max “If Neil gets back and sees him we’re both dead”  
“He just took me home, Billy” Max’s arms were crossed on her chest, chin jutting out, but then seemed to think about something and dropped the act “My board broke, he took me home with his bike”  
She didn’t say that it broke because her piss poor job of making it work again after Billy had broken it had finally decided to destroy himself, but there was no need. Billy felt like shit anyway. He nodded, arms flying protectively around his torso without even noticing.  
“And you thought that letting him in was such a great idea” He snorted “You could have called me. Steve’s got a car, you know, and you’ve got a walkie”  
Max shrugged, then noticed the plastic bags Billy had left on the floor.  
“Are you leaving?” She asked, and Billy was shocked to hear the sadness in her voice. He nodded nonetheless.  
“I’ll be staying at Steve’s for a few days”  
“Steve?” Lucas quipped “As in Steve Harrington?”  
Billy felt his hands tighten their grip around his own shirt, he had nearly forgotten about the Sinclair kid.  
“Got problems with it, Sinclair?” He growled, irritated, and Max rolled her eyes. Lucas, though, just shook his head and put his hands in his pockets.  
“That’s none of my business”  
Billy gaped at him, then sighed and brushed his hair from his face, falling back on his bed. Shit, it had been a while since he had even touched it.  
“I might be starting to like you, kid” He mumbled with closed eyes, one arm on his face, and heard Max snort. He internally debated wether he should take his records too, because when Neil got angry he broke things and…yes. He totally should. He got up and put his vinyls and tapes in a bag, tying it up, then turned around and motioned for the kids to get out.   
And that’s when Steve’s voice came from the walkie, frantic and scared.  
“Will, get the fuck out of there! They’re coming!”  
-  
“Lucas, get out!”  
Billy screamed, but the kids were already running down the stairs, Max right behind him and Billy closing the line. The kid had jus opened the front door when the car came to an halt right in front of him and Lucas froze, totally conscious to be in danger, and to have endangered Max and Billy too. The thing he wasn’t expecting was Billy’s back to appear right in front of him, shielding him.   
-  
“Behind me, kid” Billy hissed, and Lucas found himself being sandwiched between Billy and Max “Get back inside, get out from the kitchen window”  
The engine stopped and Billy’s eyes were fixed on his father’s face, the angry gaze he was throwing him and Susan’s scared expression. Fuck her, he didn’t care about that coward bitch. He took a step back, forcing the kids to get inside, and heard his father’s voice.  
“You’re back, William”  
Neil’s steps sent shivers down his spine.

Lucas and Max ran inside, opening the window of the small kitchen and started to get out. Lucas tripped on a set of dirty pans, sending them crashing to the ground, and all he could see before jumping out was Max horrified face at the hellish noise.

Billy grimaced at the mess and Neil stopped, eyes looking straight through him.   
“What was that?” He asked, and Billy threw a look in Susan’s direction. She was still close to the car.  
“Look at me when I’m talking to you, boy!”  
Neil’s shove threw him inside the house, and Billy landed on his elbows throwing back his head, between pain and fear, and saw two small faces looking at him through the glass. Those stupid kids were still there and fuck, Neil followed his gaze and spotted them. All he could do, now, was keep him away from Max and Lucas.  
“Who is that?” His father asked towering over him, legs on both sides of his head, and Billy didn’t answer, hands up in the air, palms open.  
“I asked you who’s that, boy!”  
The kick was quick and painful and left him curled around his already damaged ribs. When Billy kept silent Neil growled and surpassed him, only to fall when Billy grasped his ankle.   
Billy saw the kids run from the house on Lucas’ bike, saw Neil get up to get them, and jumped on his back to stop him like a fucking idiot. Such a stupid move. All Neil had to do to get rid of him was elbow him in the gut or smash him against the wall but no, his father choose to turn around making him hit his fucking temple against a shelf, and Billy’s vision went white, pain blossoming behind his eyes. He crashed down and Neil was on him again, hands fisted in his shirt.  
“What have you done, boy?” He growled, face mere inches from Billy’s “What have you done?  
Billy grinned, all bloody teeth and hate, and head butted him. Seeing Neil stagger, seeing him fall, felt glorious. His father looked at him with one hand on his face, blood falling from his nose, calm and scary, and Billy got up. The quick punch Neil threw caught his son straight in the stomach and Billy had to rely on the wall to stay on his feet, but the hit on the back of his head made him definitely fall face first against the tiles. He was vaguely aware of Susan’s screams, but what made his skin crawl was the noise his father’s belt made against the denim of his jeans. He tried to get up, to defend himself, but all he managed to do was just slip on the blood on the floor. Then just pain, Neil’s screams and the noises the belt made against his body.   
He heard Susan call for Max again and he cursed her, her cowardice, her selfishness, her fear of the man she had married. She couldn’t even protect her own daughter and, in the end, Max had learnt to protect herself. But Neil was something else, something different, something that even her fire couldn’t defeat. Something Billy had to protect her from, because her fucking mother wouldn’t even try to.   
Sure, Susan loved Max, but she was too scared to do something about her fucking husband. And Billy was so tired to be his father’s whipping boy. So tired of the tough kid act. So tired of himself, and his fucked up family, and Neil’s scrambled brain, and his own fears that made him act like an asshole. He had no justifications, but he was so, so tired. He curled around his own head, offering his back to the slaughter and his father’s lashes, and waited for it to end. 

Then, there were screams.


	13. That's when I reach for my revolver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Billy, fucking answer me!”  
> Steve’s voice came muffled from his jacket, but the voice of his father drowned it. He was screaming, hurling at his son insult after insult, until he wasn’t anymore. There was a crash, his father’s voice asking someone “Who the fuck are you?”.   
> Then, all hell broke lose.

Tonight the sky is empty  
But that is nothing new  
Its dead eyes look upon us  
And they tell me  
We're nothing  
But slaves  
That's when I reach for my revolver  
Just slaves  
That's when I reach for my revolver  
Mission of Burma - That’s when I reach for my revolver

Lucas had never ridden his bike that fast but he had to get Steve, he needed him. Max was crushing his ribs with her arms, muffling sobs against his shirt, and he couldn’t breathe but all he could see was Billy’s back in front of his eyes, shielding him from his father’s fury and taking the burn for it. He had seen what mr. Hargrove was doing to his son, and that violence had sparked inside him the same rage he had felt when he had learnt about what had happened to El in those labs. He nearly fell from his bike, skidding to an alt and helping Max o her feet, running to Steve.

Steve saw the kids run to him, and Max tear striped face made him jump out of the car to reach them quicker.  
“He’ll kill him, Steve” Max sobbed, and Steve felt himself die too. He fell on one knee, hugging the girl, and put one hand on Lucas’ shoulder.   
“Go get Hopper, ok?” He ordered “Find a phone, use your walkie, I don’t care. Go!”  
He watched Lucas scramble to get his bike up, got a clean baseball bat from his trunk and told Max to get inside the car, and not get out. When she shook her head, cold fury in her eyes, he sighed and jumped up, revving the engine and starting towards the house.

Lucas was glad he still had some coins from the arcade when he found a public phone on the side of the road. He let his bike fall against a brick wall and called the police, then his parents, too.   
Then he fell down, sitting on the ground, shaking so hard he couldn’t really breathe anymore.   
But, Max. He had to get to her, he had to help her, he had to be with her. And he wanted to help Billy too. He got up, reached for his bike and forced his legs to move.

“Billy, fucking answer me!”  
Steve’s voice came muffled from his jacket, but the voice of his father drowned it. He was screaming, hurling at his son insult after insult, until he wasn’t anymore. There was a crash, his father’s voice asking someone “Who the fuck are you?”.   
Then, all hell broke lose.

Steve ran to the house, then saw it: Susan’s hands were shaking, gripping the car handle so hard her knuckles were white, and he hated her. He hater her for doing nothing, for letting her husband beat her step son like that. Fear was comprehensible, but fucking useless. She was fucking useless, and Neil was beating Will with his fucking belt, and he charged. He charged without even knowing what he was doing, without thinking, and before he knew his bat had destroyed the glass door, shards falling everywhere with a noise so strong he saw Max jump out of the corner of his eyes. Neil had turned around, belt still held tight in his fist, and had barked a “Who the fuck are you?” that made Steve’s blood boil. He balanced the bat, ready to take a swing, and grinned.  
“Billy’s faggot boyfriend, asshole”  
Neil’s eyes grew even colder, his face a new shade of red as he looked down at his son, still on the ground: Billy was trying desperately to get up, eyes on Steve. There was blood everywhere. On him, on the walls, on the ground, on his father’s clothes, on his father’s face, and Steve heard a gasp from behind him: Susan had reached Max, and now was covering her own mouth with one hand, the other was trying frantically to get Max out, and Max was struggling, wanting to be close to her brother and as far as humanly possible from her mom: “Billy!” She screamed, and her voice seemed to prompt Neil to move.  
“You fucking disappointment” He hissed, sending Billy against the wall with a hard kick. The walkie cracked against his ribs and Billy yelped, hitting the floor.  
Max screamed again, and Steve saw red: he ran, bat held high over his head, but he was stopped by Neil’s fingers closing around the tip of the bat, and had just the time to think that he should have brought the nailed one when the man twisted his wrist and ripped it off his hands, then shoved him, making him hit the wall.   
“Don’t touch him!”  
“It was Billy: his hands were around Neil’s ankle, and he was fucking biting him. It was so savage that Steve felt a chocked laugh bubble in his throat, but Neil kicked Billy again, forcing him down and stomping on his fingers with the heel of his boot, and started moving towards Steve again, and Steve was already thinking that it was ridiculous, he had survived literal monsters and now was going to die killed by a fucker like Neil Hargrove, when a gun went off in the yard.  
“Don’t touch those kids, asshole”  
Hopper’s voice was hard and unyielding, and the next thing Steve saw was Hopper pushing Neil’s face against the wall, handcuffing him roughly, and the man was still trying to get to his son, to hurt him again, and Steve got it. He fucking got it, that not every monster had rows and rows and rows of teeth and claws, and a fucking flower face. Some looked human. And those were the absolute worst.  
He turned around and saw Lucas with Max, mr. and mrs. Sinclair trying to calm Susan down, his car still running, the bike on the ground. Then Steve looked right in front of him and saw him. Saw Billy. And felt like crying.

—

“Mrs. Hargrove, call an ambulance!”  
Nothing. Susan was still frozen with her hands up in the air, palms opened, eyes huge. Hopper hated domestics, he hated them with a fucking passion. He hated those beating kids assholes, he hated silent witnesses, he hated it all ; he grunted and got inside the house making the call himself, then looked around for the kids. Billy Hargrove, the so called Hawkins’ most dangerous teen (but only after El if you asked him), was still down, curled on his side, and Steve Harrington was close to him, so close, hands shaking and tears in his eyes.  
“Kid” He tried, but Steve didn’t move, it didn’t even look like he could hear him. He looked sad, fucking heartbroken and so, so worried and oh.   
Oh.  
Hopper got it and crouched down next to Steve, letting his hand fall on a shaking shoulder.

Steve wasn’t there. He was there, sure, but his brain felt numb. He felt so fucking numb and Will, lying there like a dead body, beaten and bloody, and so stil…Will looked dead. He knew he wasn’t, he could hear the slow rasp of his breathing and could see his chest rising, stuttering with pain and damaged ribs, but he looked…shit. He looked so bad.   
He saw him cough, saw him try to move his ruined hand, and heard him wail.  
He wailed. Will wailed, because the son of a bitch he had as a father had stomped on his fingers just for the fun of it, and then Will opened his eyes and he smiled, he fucking smiled to him, all bloody teeth and blue eyes and bruises bruises bruises and tears, and Steve broke down, he broke down and started sobbing, hard, and felt love. So much love for the blood asshole he had learnt to know. And hate. Fucking blood churning, stomach burning hate for his father and for Susan, the woman who could have at least tried to stop it, stop it all, but didn’t. And now she was sobbing, and Steve was sobbing, and Max was still petrified with Lucas’ arms around her, and Will, fuck, Will looked so broken.  
“I’m sorry” Steve blurted out between sobs “I should have been quicker, I should have been with you. I’m so sorry, Will”

Billy felt Steve’s forehead touch his temple, his lips kissing it, and coughed. The pain he felt in his chest told him that yes, there was something totally broken there.  
“I call…” He rasped anyway, because fuck you Neil, trying to get enough air “I call bull…bullshit, Steve”  
Steve’s eyes grew huge and he let out a wet laugh, then started sobbing even harder and the hand of the police chief appeared on his shoulder.  
“He’ll be ok, kid” Billy heard, and didn’t really knew if he could believe him “He’ll be alright. It’s gonna be ok”

When the paramedics rushed him inside the ambulance, a guy with an orange gilet asked Susan if she wanted to ride with him, but Hopper got close and said that no, Steve was going with the kid, and Billy was so fucking grateful he could have cried.   
Shit, he was crying already, wasn’t he? He had been crying for a while and couldn’t stop.   
He wanted Steve. He wanted Steve. The pain in his back and his chest and his hand and his face and his head was unbearable, so strong, and he wanted to pass out, but he wanted Steve first, he wanted Steve.  
He was sobbing, now, and felt one hand on his shoulder trying to calm him down, but it wasn’t Steve. Where was he, where was Steve. He needed him close, he wanted him there. He could believe he would have been alright only if Steve was around.   
He sobbed harder when a female voice told him to calm down, that Steve was close, but could really start to breathe again when he heard him.  
“Babe, I’m here.” He heard “Calm down. Will, calm down”  
He tried to reach out for him, but Steve’s hand was quicker: he felt cold fingers close around his good hand, felt himself being moved, saw the inside of the ambulance and panicked.  
No hospitals, Neil always said. No fucking hospitals. And now he was going to disobey, and he was going to be so angry. He was dead, he was dead…but Steve was there, telling him to breathe, to stay put, he was hurting himself, and he realized that Neil couldn’t get him anymore, not at the moment at least and let himself go. He let himself be comforted for once, and Steve was there.   
He was there.


	14. Love can only heal

Did it let you go  
When you lost your way  
Did it throw you to the wind and watch you break  
Does it haunt you now  
Are you ever safe  
The empty space inside of you can't take

Nevermind the pain  
'Cause love can only heal  
If only you could trade the dark for light it might reveal  
That there's a place inside  
Don't be afraid to feel  
'Cause love can only heal  
Myles Kennedy - Love can only heal

 

Turns out, Billy’s wounds were pretty bad. His back was a mess but his clothes had absorbed some of the impacts of his father’s belt, his ribs were broken, his hand was in a cast and his face was covered in bandages and bruises, with four black stitches under his left eye. But what really worried the doctors was his head: the blow against the shelf and the one on the back of his skull had left him with a concussion from hell and, if his blown pupils weren’t enough of a sign, him puking his guts in the ambulance had been the final warning they all needed. Steve had had just the time to help him turn on his good side to stop him from choking, and then Billy was gagging, coughing and spitting out his insides.   
They had to wait for a whole day to work on him because of that, pumping him full of painkillers strong enough to stop the pain but not enough to put him under and, honestly? It had been hilarious. Billy had lost the filter between his brain and his mouth, called Max “wild strawberry, but small”, and Steve “beautiful cat with long hair” (which, what?), and had stated with a certain self confidence that he was going to adopt two pandas: Steve had lost it, then, and had asked for their names.  
“Dustin and Lucas. Duh.”  
That had made smile even Max, with her still tear streaked face. The kid had been inamovibile: she was going to stay with her brother, and Susan’s prayers and threats did nothing to make her change her mind. They were so similar, Billy and her, that sometimes Steve wondered if they weren’t really related after all.  
Anyway, they had put Billy under the next day, worked on his hand, patched him up as much as they could, and brought him back to his room where Steve was waiting for him, sprawled on a plastic chair with one of billy’s books in his hands.  
He was trying to read, he really was, but when the guy you love (oh shit, love?) had been put in the hospital by his own father concentrating could be hard. He knew Hopper would need their statement for an eventual trial, he knew that Billy would have had to tell the chief everything and do that again in said trial and fuck, it was going to be hard for him. No way he was going to leave him alone. They were fucking together in that.   
Billy was so still, and steve hated seeing him like that. It was innatural, that stillness: Billy didn’t belong there. He belonged in his car, windows rolled down and wind through his hair, music so loud that the whole population of Hawkins knew he was coming from miles away. He belonged to live music venues, to that Metallica concert they attended together, slick skin and eyes closed in delight, head thrown back. He belonged in Steve’s shower, back against the tiles and hips spasming. He belonged in Steve’s bed, and not in some hospital room with no smoke or music, the smell of his cologne drowned by blood, sweat, tears and antiseptic. That stillness, that silence, unnerved Steve. That’s why when Billy’s eyes started fluttering he couldn’t help but jump up from that fucking plastic chair, hands in mid air, eyes huge. Look but don’t touch, they told him. Not immediately, at least. Billy cloud lash out, get scared, even panic. Call someone as soon as he awakens, they said, but he was too caught up in the little miracle of Billy’s eyes opening, blue irises stark against the black and red marks on his face. Steve stared, then exhaled and felt like crying.   
It was stupid, he knew, but he had thought for a few minutes that Billy, his Will, wouldn’t wake up. He was scared shitless, and it was bloody idiotic because the intervention wasn’t dangerous and Billy’s life had never been at risk but fuck, he looked so bad when he had been admitted, and he was still looking like shit, and oh fuck.  
“Babe?”  
He exhaled, and Billy stirred and tried to move his hand only to find it immobilized and heavy with a cast, and forced his eyes to open. 

Where the fuck was he? He felt fuzzy, his head felt heavy and his mouth tasted like bile. There was a strong smell of rubbing alcohol around him, and a beeping noise, and what the fuck? There should be no beeps in his room. And then…  
“Babe?”  
Steve? That was Steve, it had to be. He needed it to be him.

Steve put his hands on the mattress, itching to touch, but waiting for Billy to wake up properly before doing it.   
“Babe?” He tried again “Will? Can you hear me?”

Will. Only Steve had the nerve to call him Will. Only Steve could do that. Only Steve had his permission. He opened his eyes and tried to move, but felt like something was weighting him down and it got him scared. But Steve’s voice was still there, so he was safe. Right?  
The light assaulted him. He groaned, then tried to talk but all that came to was just a garbled mess of syllables. And then he heard Max’s voice.  
“If he’s trying to call me a strawberry again I’m going to need a recorder”  
Wait. What?

Steve saw Billy’s eyes finally open, still hazy and confused, but definitely there. They had pumped him full of the good stuff, it seemed, and now he looked high as a freaking kite. He was lying on his good side, with two big, cylindric pillows stopping him from rolling around, putting pressure on his ruined back and his broken ribs. His hand sat on one of those pillows, immobilized, and when he opened his eyes a white, roundish object was all he could see.   
Water. He needed water. His mouth felt like the Atacama desert. There was a water bottle on the nightstand and, Billy being Billy, tried to take it on his own only to be stopped by a small hand on his arm.  
“Don’t move, idiot” He heard Max say, and he could have sworn that he had never heard the word idiot uttered with such affection. It brought tears to his eyes, and he blamed it on the painkillers.   
“You thirsty, Will?”  
Steve asked, and he nodded minutely, still not trusting his stomach should he move his head too much. Steve nodded and left, and he was left alone with Max and her much too bright eyes.   
Don’t cry, Max. Don’t fucking cry, Max. I couldn’t handle it.   
But all Max did was letting her head thump on the pillow closest to her, sending long red hair flying everywhere, eyeing him warily. Then Billy felt small fingers on his scalp, playing with his curls, and felt his breath hitch.   
“Thank you, big brother”  
He heard, and it killed him. It broke his dams and what was left of his resolve. He felt himself tremble, throat closing with bottled up emotion and pain and, much to his horror, he felt his eyes prickle with tears. His father hated it, when he cried. He hated when he cried, and when he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He hated when he talked back, and when he didn’t. He hated when he was too noisy or too silent. He hated when he couldn’t “take it like a man”, and when he could. It left him confused and scared, hyperaware and stressed: always taut as a fucking violin string, ready to either lash out or break, and he could’t take it anymore. It was killing him, and his anxiety had reached lethal levels. He just couldn’t do it, surviving like that had been hell, and he couldn’t go back to that. Max’s hand stayed on his head, and he was so fucking grateful for her presence: being alone would have been deadly to him, in that moment. He couldn’t be alone but, at ne same time, he needed it. There was a part of him that spoke with his father’s voice that kept on telling him that being seen like that was shameful, and he didn’t know what to think, what to feel anymore, his two sides fighting while he cried his eyes out in his little sister’s arms, ribs killing him with every sob, head pounding. 

Steve found them like that, after fetching the plastic cup full of ice chips he was carrying. The brothers were curled on each other, and he got scared for a moment. Max heard him then, and turned around to reveal her sad, small face and Billy’s shuddering shoulder, clad in the pajama Steve had gotten him the day before. She smiled, though, and it calmed Steve down a bit. He got closer, leaving the cup on the nightstand, and put one arm around Max’s shoulders: the kid fell against his side, hand still buried in Billy’s curls, and Steve reached out too, interwinding his tigers with Billy’s, feeling him squeeze them lightly.   
“It’s alright, Will” he said, moving the arm around Max to get the ice chips, giving her an apologetic smile. She just smiled back.   
“It’s alright” He repeated “You’re safe. Hopper got him, you’re safe”  
Billy’s breath stopped at that, eyes flying open, red and puffy, and Steve smiled.  
“He’s got him. He won’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe”  
Safe. Such an underrated concept.   
He felt a laugh bubble in his throat, and then he was sobbing again, cocooned in Steve’s arms, Steve’s lips against his ear murmuring soft nonsense, Max’s hand still in his hair. Steve managed to push some ice past his lips when he calmed down a bit, and it felt like heaven in his mouth. He cleared his voice and rasped.  
“Strawberry?”  
Max laughed.


End file.
